


Bewildered

by wheel_pen



Series: Bedeviled [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: Charles knows he’s an Omega in heat, and he knows the man asleep next to him in bed is an Alpha named Erik. That’s the sum total of his knowledge, however. Which seems like a bad thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe Omegas are considered adults once they go into heat; however, they may be under 18 years old when this happens.  
> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

First he was aware of the pain. He shifted a little, and the pain increased, so with reluctance he urged his consciousness forward and opened his eyes. He did not see what he expected to see. And then he realized, he didn’t know _what_ he expected.

His name was Charles, and he was in bed in a rather nice bedroom. There was warmth at his back, an arm around his waist; he knew that was Erik. Flashes echoed through his head of what they’d done last night—more pleasure than pain, _want_ and _need_ and _mine_ and _now_ , but his body was feeling its effects now, twinges and aches low in his belly, arms and legs rubbery from exertion. He was an Omega, so that made sense.

And that was the sum total of his personal knowledge.

Which seemed very bad.

Erik moved slightly behind him, and Charles froze. Then he settled down again, apparently still asleep. It suddenly felt vital that Charles not let anyone know the extent of his ignorance. Why? He didn’t know that either; it was just an instinct, and those were about all he had to rely on.

Besides, it just seemed— _ridiculous_ , and impossible to explain. How could you wake up in bed with someone, and not know who they were, or _where_ you were? Okay, perhaps if he’d been very drunk, Charles reasoned, trying to keep his breathing even. But he couldn’t remember _anything_ —his last name, where he was from, his family. An evening of drunken debauchery would not explain that, would it?

He had to buy himself some time to think. Carefully he eased out from under Erik’s arm, trying to edge off the mattress with as little disturbance as possible. His cramps increased when he stood and he grabbed the bedpost for support, muffling his gasp. _Everything_ hurt, including his head; maybe that supported the massive hangover theory.

Once Charles got his balance back he turned to make sure Erik was still asleep. He recognized the figure in the bed instantly, and yet had no context or impression of him. Broad shoulders, narrow hips like a swimmer’s—deceptively slender with a grip like steel. Where did they meet? How long had they known each other? What was his favorite color? Charles had no idea.

Something else on the mattress caught his eye: blood. A little experimental probing found the rest of it drying on his thighs. A bit of biology floated up to him—his first time, perhaps. Another twinge inside and he felt like something was dripping from him, though it didn’t seem to be literally so—wait, was he in heat? He thought that was supposed to be nice, sexy, desirable—but instead he was all soreness and vague nausea, light-headed and too warm, skin sticky with sweat. He saw an open door to a bathroom and stumbled towards it.

He was probably just disoriented. That happened, right? Exertion, heavy sleep, hormones—it took time to shake off the cobwebs. Any moment the memories would come flooding back to him, making him feel foolish for his confusion, and glad he hadn’t upset Erik with a temporary issue—

Charles saw his reflection in the mirror and stopped, shocked. One of his eyes was encircled with swollen red; he’d have a black eye soon. A corner of his mouth was tender and torn. The knuckles of one hand were puffy and sore. There was a professional-looking Band-Aid on the back of his other hand, concealing a bruise and a small puncture wound when Charles peeled it away. There was a rather serious-looking bite mark where his shoulder turned into his neck, and as he looked more closely he saw small scratches and bruises all over his body. With a sudden surge of thought he reached up to the back of his neck and felt the bond-mark there, still painful to the touch.

So, yesterday someone had hit him in the face, and he had fought back. He’d been in the hospital with an IV. And he’d gotten married, with the bond obviously consummated.

Erik was his husband. But about all the rest Charles was still in the dark.

He peered out the bathroom door—Erik was unchanged in the bed. Slowly Charles closed the barrier between them and decided to take a shower. Was Erik a good man? Had Charles chosen him, or had it been arranged? He felt like Omegas didn’t always get much say in their partners, though he had no context for this thought. Presumably Erik was an Alpha—the bite mark, having sex for the first time after marriage during heat (Charles’s first?)—it all pointed towards the traditional. Sometimes Omegas didn’t even know their Alphas before the wedding—was that why he had no memories of Erik? But he had no memories at _all_.

The tepid spray stung his sensitive skin, the soap burned, but he needed to be clean, and alert. Why the hospital, that was mysterious. His injuries weren’t severe enough to land him there. Everything else could be… wedding night mishaps. Well, clearly that was too innocent a term, but Charles couldn’t let his mind go down that path, that was too frightening to contemplate, that he might now be trapped in marriage to someone cruel. He felt his scalp as he washed his hair, but didn’t find any bumps or sore spots, like his mishaps had included a head injury responsible for his lack of memory.

“There you are.” Charles looked up sharply when Erik appeared at the entrance to the shower, his heart pounding and his stomach going cold. Erik was a very good-looking man: high cheekbones, dark hair, reddish stubble, blue eyes that bored into Charles. But beauty could easily hide cruelty. Though, he _also_ had a bite mark on his shoulder, and a few scratches and bruises. Was that good or bad—mutual rough handling, or Charles fighting back?

Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”

Charles knew there was only one right answer to that. “Yes,” he insisted brightly. “Just finishing up.”

Erik smirked. “Don’t rush on my account.” He stepped confidently into the shower, his arms going around Charles with ease as he shared the spray. He leaned down to nuzzle at Charles’s neck, his stubble scratching Charles’s skin. “You should have waited,” he murmured into Charles’s ear. “I would have cleaned you up.”

Charles did not know how to take that, except that Erik was obviously used to handling him, and not very gently either, as he pulled Charles back against him and nipped at his shoulder. “I didn’t want to be any trouble,” Charles responded, a bit breathlessly, and Erik chuckled like this idea was ridiculous.

“Why start now?” Erik replied dryly, which Charles didn’t think was quite nice, but Erik’s lips on his shoulders and neck _were_ very nice. There was something arousing about the proprietary attentions, and Charles’s head fell back, inviting Erik to increase the intensity. But what if he _shouldn’t_ like it? _Didn’t_ like it, because Erik went too far? Charles tensed suddenly, curling back into himself.

Erik did not ignore this. “Are you sore?” he asked, and his kisses became lighter.

“Yes,” Charles risked admitting.

Erik’s hold became looser, but he couldn’t seem to keep his hands completely off Charles, his long fingers kneading his hips. “I’ll get you some Tylenol, and something to eat,” he planned. “Get dressed.” He stepped back completely, letting Charles escape the shower and grab a towel. “I’ll just be a minute,” Erik promised, reaching for the soap. Charles nodded obediently and started to move away, carefully. “Charles.” He halted as Erik stuck his head around the edge of the shower. “Don’t look at the bed. I’ll change the sheets later.”

“Okay,” Charles agreed, when he seemed to want some kind of response. Erik ducked back under the water, and Charles resisted the urge to keep watching him, the bubbles sluicing down his back.

He crossed into the bedroom, avoiding the bed. There were several other doors, and suitcases were shoved haphazardly out of the way. A flash of memory made him stagger and he clutched the wall for support: the two of them tumbling into the room, clothes and bags flying as they kissed hungrily, Erik’s hands everywhere as he pressed Charles against the wall, filling up all of his senses—

An arrow of sunlight pierced Charles’s vision, distracting him, and he realized he’d brushed the curtain covering a window. Curiously he pushed it back and was nearly blinded by sunlight glinting off… snow. A huge snowy field, with pine trees beyond that as far as the eye could see. He might have been less surprised, or alarmed, by a city—in a city there would be someplace he could run to, get help from. Did he _need_ to run and get help? In his brief memory he certainly wasn’t fighting Erik off. He was just… overwhelming. Inevitable.

Not the most ringing endorsement.

Charles heard the water shut off and remembered he was just standing there in a towel. Curiously he wasn’t that cold, which he supposed was an advantage of being in heat. He didn’t know which suitcase was his and had to read the luggage tags, which at least told him their addresses—both in New York—and surnames: Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier. So now if anyone happened to quiz him on that, he could answer properly, Charles thought sarcastically as he dug into his suitcase. Well, Erik probably expected him to change his name, that being the more traditional practice.

Charles had managed to find pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt by the time Erik appeared, but nothing more substantial. There were clothes, shoes, and coats discarded on the floor where they’d left them last night, and he started to pick through them carefully. Might be useful, to have shoes and a coat in the snow. If he was in the snow. At some point.

“Don’t mess with things,” Erik ordered, sounding irritated, and Charles froze, risking a glance at him. Erik had found his own pajama bottoms and was tugging a t-shirt over his lean torso. _Please don’t let him be cruel_ , Charles thought wildly, _because he is beautiful._ Which was a stupid thing to think, and Charles turned away and dropped the boot he’d been clutching. “I’ll clean up later,” Erik continued. “After I feed you.”

He walked right up to Charles, in his personal space before the Omega could even back up, and got his hands on him again, holding his shoulders steady where they joined his throat. For a moment Charles imagined those strong fingers squeezing down painfully, but they only caressed him, avoiding the bite mark. Erik’s face was unmarked, Charles realized suddenly, so maybe it hadn’t been _him_ Charles had hit. Though that begged the question—who else?

Erik was staring at him like his eyes were mapping every inch, and Charles was acutely aware he could not look very impressive with his injuries. He dropped his gaze, afraid of what Erik would see in his eyes. After a moment Erik pulled him close—gently—and kissed his forehead, an achingly sweet gesture. He smelled nice, like wood smoke and oranges, but just as Charles was beginning to relax Erik abruptly released him.

“Come on.” Erik grabbed his hand and pulled him into the hall, tasteful but slightly impersonal décor flying past as Charles was tugged towards a staircase. Erik seemed rather bossy, but he was an Alpha and as noted previously, traditional, so he obviously expected Charles to just do as he said. Charles knew it was prudent to go along; maybe that was what he always did. But something inside rebelled against being _too_ compliant.

“Can you—can we slow down, please?” Charles asked tentatively. Erik looked back with a frown and did not release Charles’s hand, but he did stop, and then proceeded more slowly. Charles feared he might have given something away though, perhaps been too forceful. “Thank you,” he told Erik. “I just—I felt like I might trip.”

“Do you feel light-headed?” Erik demanded, pinning Charles with his gaze at the foot of the stairs. “You should have said—“

“No, no, I’m alright, thank you,” Charles assured him, and smiled. Erik looked as though he was _thinking_ about smiling in return, but then he dismissed the idea as ridiculous and towed Charles through a living room and into the kitchen. Charles tried to conceal his sigh, which was a mixture of relief and dismay.

Erik pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar—Charles should sit _here_ , he practically patted the seat—and Charles eased himself onto it gingerly, unable to hide his grimace of discomfort. He caught the smug Alpha smirk on Erik’s face before the man opened a cabinet, but he pretended he’d seen nothing, as a complaint was obviously out of the question.

Erik retrieved a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet and plunked two tablets and a glass of water down in front of Charles, then stood there expectantly. He was clearly not going to look away until Charles swallowed the pills, so he did, though he was torn between wanting to feel better and not wanting to take drugs from a near-stranger. That was a pretty basic safety thing, wasn’t it? But not letting Erik know he was _viewed_ as a stranger was the paramount goal here.

Once Charles was medicated Erik had his hands on him again, tilting his face to the bright overhead lights, then tugging aside the collar of his sweatshirt to look at the bite mark. “Hmm, I’ll patch that up next,” he plotted, finally moving away. “I’m going to make you some eggs.”

Charles gripped the edge of the counter in a sudden panic, fortunately while Erik was occupied rummaging in the fridge. _What if he was allergic to something?_ He could die, because he didn’t remember! He tried to take even, calming breaths—quietly—and reminded himself that Erik was his husband, he surely knew about any food allergies.

“Charles?” He jerked his eyes open, unaware that he’d closed them, and saw Erik watching him with concern. Charles forced a smile to his face. “You still feel nauseous?” Erik guessed.

“Yeah, just a bit,” Charles agreed, which was true.

“Not eggs, then?” Erik offered, holding three in his large hand.

Charles was not sure what alternatives were available, or safe to suggest. “No, eggs are good,” he encouraged. “Thank you.” He needed some fuel, anyway.

“Right,” Erik commented, with a slight dubiousness that made Charles fear he’d done something wrong. Erik cracked the eggs into a bowl, his eyes continually darting over to Charles, and the Omega desperately searched for something to say. Should he compliment the kitchen? It was a nice kitchen, but what if he’d seen it before? Unsafe.

“There’s a lot of snow,” he finally remarked, idiotically.

The look Erik gave him didn’t help. “Yes,” he replied shortly. “I might’ve known you’d decide to pop in bad weather.”

That seemed a bit crude, and a bit snide—surely Charles couldn’t help when he went into heat? “You look nice,” he tried again. He’d been going for a compliment but didn’t necessarily mean to say _that_ ; it just sort of tumbled out as he watched Erik manipulate the pan of sizzling eggs, confident and handsome in spite of his tone.

It seemed to be the right thing to say, though, as Erik gave him a slightly crazy but breathtaking grin, huge with too many teeth, and then actually laughed. Charles felt a thrill of victory go through him—he got the sense that Erik didn’t laugh all that often. A serious, brooding sort of person. “I look nice?” Erik repeated with a chuckle. “I look nice cooking your breakfast. Well, don’t get used to it.”

Of course, Erik probably expected _him_ to do the cooking normally. Did he know how to cook? Well, surely his memory would be back before then.

Although what if it wasn’t? What if it never came back? Charles wrapped his arms around himself, feeling both too warm and chilled somehow, contemplating a future as blank as his past. He would have to confess to someone—well, Erik, he was the only one here—eventually, before they had to leave this house and go back to their daily lives. But surely that would be a few days, if they were on their honeymoon.

“Big day yesterday,” Charles commented leadingly. He assumed they hadn’t had a big wedding, if he was in heat; his mind was fuzzy on the usual options, but they had obviously gotten married in some fashion, and he hoped Erik would talk about that.

Erik was not one for reminiscing, however, and he just gave Charles another odd look as he dished up the eggs. “That’s one way to describe it,” he snorted, giving the event a negative spin.

Charles couldn’t think about that for too long, however; the smell of the eggs made his stomach flutter in a bad way, but he forced himself to dig in and think of the protein he was getting, which might ease some of his sore muscles. As Charles went for a second bite Erik suddenly touched his chin, tipping his gaze up to meet his. He looked, in a word, suspicious, and Charles felt his panic beginning to rise—he just needed a little more time, time _alone_ without someone staring at him and grabbing him, and maybe he could figure this out and never have to tell anyone he’d been so foolish as to forget his own existence.

“Do you feel alright?” Erik asked, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah,” Charles insisted cheerfully. “These eggs are great, thanks.”

Erik was not buying it. “How’s your head?”

How should it be? “Um, alright.” This was slightly more qualified, in case there was something else wrong he didn’t know about. Every second Erik looked at him Charles felt like he was digging deeper, and he couldn’t let him realize there was nothing underneath. “Could I have some toast, please?” he asked quickly.

Erik gave him one last, long look before finally turning away, and Charles shoveled more eggs into his mouth, feeling like his time was growing short. “You remember the doctor said there might be side effects,” Erik explained, too casually, and Charles glanced over at him, trying to conceal his surprise. Erik put some bread into the toaster. “Disorientation, memory loss, hallucinations.” What the h—l were _those_ side effects of, that Charles had gotten into? “You’re not feeling any of those, are you?” He watched Charles like he was a mouse nosing around a trap.

“No, of course not,” Charles replied, because that was the only safe answer. Wasn’t it? Or was he supposed to tell now? Could he trust Erik? He just seemed so very _Alpha_ , with those muscles under his t-shirt and those laser-beam eyes. If they were married, it wouldn’t be wrong to enjoy them, would it? Charles smiled and after a moment Erik smiled too, which looked good on him if a bit rusty.

He turned away to retrieve a plate. “Betty and Carl asked us to join them for skiing next weekend,” Erik commented. “I said I’d have to check with you first, after what happened last time.”

Did Charles know how to ski? How soon was the weekend? “What do you think?” he asked Erik neutrally.

“It’ll be nice to see them again.”

“Yes, they’re lovely,” Charles tried.

And then Erik slammed his hand down on the counter, making the dishes rattle and Charles jump. “G-------t, Charles! You can’t remember a f-----g thing, can you!”

“Um—“ Charles’s mouth went dry and his heart pounded in his chest. Erik’s eyes blazed at him with fury, pretty much the exact opposite of what Charles had been trying to achieve. The toaster popped and Erik glanced away at it, and Charles did the only sensible thing he could think of—he made a run for it.

He heard his name shouted behind him, felt the thump of following feet, but the only thing in his mind was to move, get away, stay out of reach. Carpet burned against his bare feet; he clipped his hip painfully on a doorway, which slowed him, and he saw Erik out of the corner of his eye and pushed himself forward. That meant he had to bypass the front door, so he made a sharp, skidding turn and aimed for the back of the house.

“Don’t open that door!” Erik thundered from behind him, but Charles knew he had to, even though fumbling with the lock cost him precious time. He flung it open finally, banging his knee, and the snow blinded him but he raced out into it anyway, because he wasn’t likely to run in to anything. But maybe there would be a road beyond the yard, a passing car—

Something slammed into him, pounding him into the several inches of snow and knocking the breath out of him. Arms and legs tried to contain him but still he struggled, grasping at any tiny bit of leverage or purchase he could get.

“Charles!” Erik hissed in his ear. “Stop. Just calm down!” That never worked, did it? Just ordering someone to calm down? Charles didn’t waste breath replying. “I know you don’t remember me,” Erik went on, “but I’m not going to hurt you—“ A little hard to believe when he had Charles face down in the snow, using his greater weight to press him into submission. “Will you stop? I will explain everything—“

“Ow!” Charles gasped, as Erik squeezed on his bruised hip, and the other man rolled off immediately, even though this might theoretically have let Charles escape.

“Charles? Are you alright?”

Charles had not missed the fact that lying face down in the snow, with no shoes and no coat, was not a great position to be in. The snow was soaking through his thin clothes and he could feel its sharp crystals scraping at his bare skin. Erik could’ve hurt him if he was going to, this was the perfect chance, but instead he was lying in the snow beside him, similarly underdressed. Erik reached a tentative hand to the back of Charles’s neck, skin unnaturally warm in contrast to the snow.

“Schatzi?”

Charles turned his head slightly, scratching against the snow, and met Erik’s gaze. It was deeply concerned, and even a little frightened. Charles started to shiver.

Erik took that as a sign and hopped to his feet. “Let’s get you inside.” He hauled Charles up with embarrassing ease and then scooped him off the ground.

“I can walk—“

“I don’t think so.” Erik’s voice was implacable and Charles was too cold to argue, huddling against him for warmth as Erik stumbled back through the snow to the house. “Why do you have to be such a f-----g torment to me, Schatzi?” he groused, exasperation suggesting affection and long association. The endearment seemed special, though Charles didn’t recall it. “I really shouldn’t be surprised that you would do this to me.”

Charles felt his character was being impugned, and couldn’t tell if it was fair or not. “I’m sorry,” he replied, teeth chattering. “It’s not my fault. Is it?” Maybe he’d fried his memory by doing drugs or something.

Erik sighed. “No, it’s not, Schatzi.” They staggered through the back door and Erik set Charles on his feet while he secured the exit; the tile floor felt almost colder than the snow had been. “Upstairs.” Charles winced with every step on his reddened feet, though Erik’s must have been worse, and was not allowed to be out of reach of the Alpha as he was guided to the second floor, down the hall to the bedroom, and through it to the bathroom.

“Sit.” Obediently Charles perched on the edge of the bathtub with his feet inside it and Erik turned on the water, keeping it lukewarm though Charles still grimaced when it touched his skin. “Off.” Charles let him take his soaked sweatshirt, which was replaced with a towel. Erik disappeared for a few moments, during which time Charles stared at the swirling water and tried not to think of anything at all. Part of him was relieved that someone knew, but another part was terrified at how that someone would react.

Erik returned, having changed into a black pullover, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He shut the faucet off and eased his own feet into the water, swearing freely as he did so. Charles clutched his towel around himself and tried to stay small.

“Charles.” He felt compelled to meet Erik’s gaze. “I mean, what the f—k?”

“I don’t know,” Charles replied in a small voice.

“Please be playing a sick joke on me, Schatzi,” Erik asked, though without conviction. “I promise I won’t be mad. Well, I’ll be mad,” he amended, more honestly.

Charles had felt all morning like someone was playing a sick joke on _him_. “Schatzi,” he repeated dully. “Is that German? Are we German?”

“C----t,” Erik sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Okay, let me see what we’ve got here.” He turned Charles towards him, looking him over clinically for things he could fix, then retrieved a first aid kit and started applying some antiseptic cream to the bite on his shoulder. “Do you remember _anything_?”

“I-I remember my name, and yours,” Charles listed timidly. “I remember a little bit of last night.” His cheeks flushed but Erik didn’t react, busy looking over the bruise on his hand from the IV. “We’re married, aren’t we? We just got married. And I was in the hospital.” Erik had hauled Charles’s feet out of the water and was drying and inspecting them carefully, with a proprietary sort of tenderness. “I don’t remember that, I just… surmise,” Charles added.

Erik looked up at that. “Nice vocabulary word,” he cracked, which made Charles frown. Surely sarcasm was not really necessary right now. “You were doing well there, figuring it out on your own,” Erik went on, always with an underlying disapproval. “You managed to fool me for a while. _Why_?” Charles dropped his gaze, unable to articulate the impulse in a way someone like Erik would understand.

“Up,” Erik ordered, obviously having given up on anything deeper than dog-level commands for the moment. Charles stood. “Off.” Erik tugged at his wet pajama bottoms.

At this, Charles hesitated. “Um, I’d rather—“

Erik, still sitting on the edge of the tub, blinked up at him with a deeply unimpressed expression. “I want to check your injuries,” he said, more than a slight hint of patronizing in his tone. “I saw it all last night, you know. We are intimately acquainted.” His voice by the end was softer, seductive, slightly provocative too, as though he was daring Charles to challenge this.

Charles had no intention of doing so, though he swallowed hard before his shaking fingers shoved his pajama bottoms down. He tried to preserve some modesty with the towel, which Erik flicked aside dismissively to study the growing bruises on his hip and knee. Surely Erik did not need to have his face _that_ close to Charles’s skin, his fingers stroking the back of his thigh for _that_ long. And if he did, could it at least happen someplace more comfortable than the cold bathroom? Charles could feel sweat breaking out on his skin even as he shivered; he might enjoy Erik’s attentions (more) if he could just calm down and get equilibrated first.

Finally Erik let him go. “You’ll need ice,” he judged. “Stay here.” With that command he strode from the room as though the examination had been nothing more than clinical for him.

Heart still pounding Charles wrapped the towel around his waist, searching for another for his hair and shoulders, his jitters not entirely due to the cold. Erik had answered—well, _zero_ of his questions so far, and his manner did not exactly inspire ease or comfort. But Charles did not sense he wanted to hurt him. For whatever Charles’s senses were worth, which clearly wasn’t much.

Charles caught a familiar scent, the _only_ familiar scent, and then Erik was upon him from behind, arms wrapped tight around his waist and one thigh thrust between Charles’s, rocking him back with a suddenness that stole his breath. Again he felt the scratch of stubble against his neck, lips nuzzling his ear with delicious warmth. Once he was firmly seated on Erik’s thigh—he felt like he was only barely supporting himself—one of Erik’s hands started to creep up his chest towards his nipple, and another dipped below the towel, teasing his lower belly.

“What—what are you—“ Charles stuttered, although what he was _doing_ seemed obvious, and Charles tipped his head back against Erik’s shoulder, balanced on the knife edge between eager and frightened.

“You must’ve been terrified,” Erik murmured in his ear, his voice deep and rich. Charles felt teeth on his earlobe, which made his breath hitch. “I want to see if you’ve been scared out of heat.”

“Does that happen?” Charles asked, prepared to be deeply disappointed if this turned out to be the case.

“Sometimes.” Erik dropped kisses along his shoulder, and Charles began to think that perhaps having a past was overrated, if one had the right present.

“What do you think?” Charles wanted to know, slightly breathless.

Erik’s hands stopped roaming and settled into more of a hug, and he moved his leg away forcing Charles to stand on his own. “I think you’re still alright,” he judged, kissing the back of his head. This new position was not as thrilling but significantly more comforting. “You still smell d—n good, anyway.” Then he shoved some clothes at Charles and backed away abruptly. “Put these on.” He was out of the room before Charles could finish staggering.

Well. Good to know. Wasn’t it Omegas who were supposed to have crazy mood swings, Charles thought, rolling his eyes. Probably it was being in heat that made him think about dangerous things, like skipping an explanation to go straight back to bed with Erik. He was surprised they were able to have conversations at all; romance novels usually suggested heat was nothing but incoherent sex for a week straight, with occasional showers and meals if you were lucky. Perhaps that was why Erik had worried about him losing it, because they were too rational.

These were not the kinds of things he should be thinking about right now, Charles told himself again. Though, he did feel quite a bit warmer than he had, so there was that. He pulled on the new pair of pajama bottoms Erik had brought him, as well as an oversized hoodie—Erik’s own, from the smell, and Charles couldn’t help inhaling deeply and cuddling down into it. Wood smoke and oranges, delicious combination. He wondered what he smelled like to Erik as he sat on the edge of the tub putting on some socks.

Erik was on the couch when Charles finally emerged, leaning sideways against the arm with his long legs stretched out. Anything positive Charles was feeling about him flip-flopped, however, when Erik gave him a sharp, narrow look and pointed to the other end of the couch. “Sit.”

“I’m—I’m not a dog, you know,” Charles protested, faintly. Erik raised an eyebrow, as if waiting to see what Charles would do next. Sighing, Charles sat down as directed, facing Erik, and drew his knees up under his chin protectively.

Erik tsked and nudged his bruised leg back out straight, arranging an ice pack on his knee. He allowed Charles to press another to his hip, in what Charles supposed was meant as a measure of independence.

Erik stared at him for a long, unnerving moment. “What’s the first thing you remember?” he demanded.

“Waking up this morning,” Charles answered promptly. “That’s the first clear thing.”

“That must’ve been a shock,” Erik observed dryly.

Charles shrugged a little. “Well, I assumed I was where I was meant to be, just… no memories.”

“Have a blanket,” Erik ordered, indicating the one on the back of the couch, and Charles wrapped it around his shoulders loosely, not feeling the cold as keenly anymore. It seemed to please Erik at least; the Alpha did not get cold himself, from the heat pouring off his legs that surrounded Charles.

“You said something about a doctor,” Charles finally had to prompt, when it looked like Erik might be trying to just _will_ his mind back with his penetrating stare. Which Charles would gladly have obeyed if he could.

“Do you know how old you are?” Erik asked instead, and to Charles’s alarm, he didn’t.

“No, I—“ Somehow that was worse than not knowing his last name or where he was—to have no sense of his own _age_? Well, that wasn’t true, he knew he wasn’t _ninety_ , for example—somewhere between thirteen and thirty, maybe. Actually thirty sounded rather old to him, so between thirteen and twenty-five was his revised guess, but he couldn’t narrow it down further—

“Hey.” Erik took hold of his ankle, stroking his foot gently. “I’m about to tell you. You’re seventeen.”

That seemed right, like a puzzle piece fitting into place, and Charles was immensely relieved. “Oh. Okay.”

“This is your first heat,” Erik went on. Charles was not sure if he still had his doubts about the amnesia or what, but he certainly wasn’t _generous_ with information.

There seemed to be flickers of general knowledge swimming through Charles’s brain, at least. “Oh, that’s a bit old for a first heat, isn’t it?” he finally recalled. “I _know_ a lot of things,” he protested at Erik’s look, “like how to speak English and who the Queen is.”

“We’re in America,” Erik corrected, with dark amusement.

“S—t,” Charles swore helplessly. They had English accents, well, Erik’s sounded mildly Irish, except wasn’t he German--? Charles leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes against the confusion.

“Your heat was late and it hit you hard,” Erik finally went on, still massaging Charles’s lower leg. It felt nice, his fingers were strong. “That’s how you ended up in the hospital.”

Charles opened his eyes again, frowning. “That sounds rather serious.”

“It was. Do you remember your mother?”

Maybe Erik’s whiplash-inducing conversational turns were meant to jar Charles’s memories out of him, the verbal equivalent of a smack on the head (verbal being much preferred). At any rate this one worked, as images arose in Charles’s mind, warm and flickering like candlelight. “Yes,” he answered with a smile, which for some reason confused Erik, or perhaps he didn’t believe it. “I remember her singing to me in German. Are we both German?” A small ex-pat community, perhaps—

Now Erik was smiling, just a little bit, but it was a complicated smile. “That’s _my_ mother,” he corrected.

“ _Your_ mother?” Why would he remember _Erik’s_ mother, and not his own? It seemed terribly wrong to have such a gap, almost a betrayal of her. “Why can’t I remember my mother?” Charles asked softly, though the answer was the same for _everything_ he couldn’t remember.

“Because your mother is a neglectful b---h,” Erik informed him coldly.

The words shook Charles like a slap in the face. “I—I don’t think you ought to speak that way about my mother,” he commented carefully. Surely that was universal.

“Well you don’t remember anything, so your opinions don’t count,” Erik responded, heartlessly.

Charles felt a flash of anger and yanked his foot away from Erik, drawing his knees back up to his chest defensively and dislodging the ice packs. “Hey,” Erik protested, but calmly, like he was used to working with irrational creatures. He signaled for Charles to stretch his leg out again and when Charles pushed his luck and refused, Erik just leaned forward and grabbed him anyway.

“Stop,” Erik commanded when Charles resisted. He might have been talking to a small, foolish child, whose objections were irrelevant and barely irritating. “Stop. You’re injured and I’m going to take care of you.”

“What happened to my face?” Charles blurted. He hadn’t meant to ask outright but the question was rising in his thoughts as he saw how physically aggressive Erik was. Which really only made it _more_ imprudent to say.

Erik glanced up from readjusting the ice pack on Charles’s knee. “Oh. Did you think _I_ hit you?” He sounded slightly dumbfounded by this, and then, seeming to realize how his behavior might have contributed to this idea, he deliberately took his hands off Charles and leaned back. “I would never hurt you, Charles,” Erik vowed, with a simple sincerity that the Omega immediately believed.

Nevertheless—“You _did_ bite me,” he was compelled to point out.

The quick, off-kilter grin flashed across Erik’s face. “That’s recreational,” he claimed cheekily. Then, abruptly serious, “Did you get enough to eat earlier?”

Charles risked a noise of exasperation. “I don’t _want_ anything to eat!” he insisted. “I _want_ to know what’s going on!” Then he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath and sit still, be a bit more like a proper Omega.

Erik was smirking from the other end of the couch, though. “Well that’s a little more like my Charles,” he claimed, and Charles’s heart skipped a beat at the phrasing. Then Erik sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Sorry, I am s—t at telling stories,” he admitted. “You were hit, in the face, by an orderly at the hospital.”

“What?!” Charles exclaimed, then winced as the injuries in question twinged.

Erik started to reach for him again, then stopped himself sharply. “Put one of the ice packs on your eye, maybe it will help,” he suggested. “That was yesterday morning. And you hit the orderly back, which they were not expecting.” Erik sounded rather proud about this.

Charles awkwardly switched the ice pack on his eye to his other hand, to examine his bruised knuckles. “Why was I getting into fights at the hospital?”

“We’ve been bonded since we were children,” Erik thought to tell him instead. “That’s why you remember my mother. You and Raven spent a lot of time with her, especially when you were younger. Raven is your sister,” he added at Charles’s look.

“You _are_ s—t at telling stories,” Charles agreed, and Erik shrugged. “Raven, that’s an odd name. Raven and Charles?” Didn’t really go together.

“Raven told me about the fight at the hospital, because I wasn’t there,” Erik zigzagged. “Because _your_ mother didn’t file the paperwork properly. So the hospital wouldn’t let me see you, or treat you the way I told them.”

Erik was trying to relay this casually, for Charles’s information; but Charles could see the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes clouded over in the silence. His thumb twitched against Charles’s leg that it rested near, as if he couldn’t help trying to touch the Omega somehow. “That must’ve made you very angry,” Charles remarked carefully. He could envision Erik tearing someplace apart to get to him, which the rational part of his brain found frightening, and the emotional part, intoxicating. He leaned his leg more into Erik’s hand.

“It did,” Erik understated, stroking Charles’s leg gently. “From their point of view, you were an unbonded Omega in heat, and no one could reach your mother, who is partying in St. Tropez or someplace.” Contempt dripped from his tone. “So they decided to put you on suppressants. Which you protested, because you knew you _weren’t_ unbonded.”

“So I got into a fight with the hospital staff,” Charles summarized slowly, “because they wanted to put me on heat suppressants?” Heat without a partner was suffering, plain and simple, or so Charles recalled from undefined sources. And Omegas in heat in public places had to be careful, Alphas would be drawn to their scent. “I mean, they actually hit me?” he added faintly. A hospital ought to be a _safe_ place.

“Raven said it was more like a slipped elbow,” Erik described. “At which point you defended yourself. And Raven got into it as well. She’s an Alpha, if that matters.”

“I’m somewhat glad I don’t remember all that,” Charles decided slowly. “Wait, we haven’t gotten to my lack of memory,” he realized. “Did they hit me _that_ hard—“

“No,” Erik denied. Then, “Are you sure you aren’t hungry? Look, this is me being an Alpha when my Omega’s in heat,” he pointed out when Charles gave him a look. “Health and safety, food.” Tactfully he did not mention the sex. He did give in and fuss with the ice pack on Charles’s knee, however.

“But what about the suppressants?” Charles prompted him.

“Azazel and I got things sorted by early afternoon,” Erik continued. “That’s my lawyer. And made the doctor take you off the suppressants and give you a contraceptive shot. He said that cutting off the suppressants early, and the drug interaction, could have rare and unlikely side effects.”

“Like memory loss,” Charles concluded depressingly.

“Naturally you would come up with that,” Erik remarked dryly, “just to torture me further.”

“My first thought,” Charles claimed, rolling his eyes. Like he’d erased his entire past just to prank Erik. He stretched out his other leg and Erik immediately went for it, sliding a warm hand up the pajama bottom leg.

“You said you remembered last night,” Erik hinted, with what was for him slight uncertainty.

“Vaguely,” Charles repeated apologetically. Unconsciously he glanced at the spot on the wall that had been burned into his memory earlier, and a new flash appeared—Erik slamming his hand into the wall beside Charles’s head and talking about how furious he was, the words growled out low and harsh. Charles was rather glad he hadn’t remembered that earlier.

Erik was watching him with a questioning look. “You said you were angry,” Charles relayed.

“Not at you, Schatzi,” Erik assured him. “Though, that _would_ be the thing you remember.”

“I remember other things,” Charles promised. He didn’t mean to be coy, it was just hard to describe. “Like they’re… dream fragments.”

“My wedding night was a dream,” Erik tried, sarcastically. “I suppose that’s not the _worst_ thing someone could say.”

Charles tried not to smile, certain he shouldn’t be encouraged. “So you got me out of hospital, and we came here,” he guessed. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Upstate New York,” Erik told him. “I bought this place a couple years ago, for just this purpose. Everyone thought you were going to pop any day, but you were stubborn.”

“Just to torment you, yes,” Charles agreed, ignoring his crudeness. “You’ve got a place in the country? Are you rich?”

He’d meant this as a general status inquiry, certain someone like Erik wouldn’t be offended. Of course, the other man grinned and claimed, “Yes, and you just married me for my money, you little gold-digger.”

His smile was infectious, the brief time it was allowed out, and Charles found himself laughing at the tasteless comment. “It’s not very nice to lie to someone with memory loss, is it?” he asked, squirming his feet against Erik playfully. It felt good to be able to relax around him, finally.

“No. Actually, _you’re_ loaded,” Erik admitted. “Got your own place in the country that makes this look like a flat over a garage. I do alright,” he added, and for once Charles suspected he was being modest, “since I took over my father’s engineering firm.” His strong fingers were burning trails on the skin of Charles’s legs as he massaged them.

“You said we were bonded as children,” Charles reminded him, trying to stay focused.

“Our fathers did business together. They’re both dead now,” Erik tacked on, as a downer.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Erik shrugged as though it was of little importance. Charles could not yet remember his own father, so the melancholy was more theoretical. “How old were we, when we were bonded?”

“You were six,” Erik recalled, “and I was twelve.”

Charles winced picturing it. “Ooh, that’s awkward.”

“It frequently has been, yes.” That age gap would’ve made it rather difficult for them to relate to each other, well, _ever_ , Charles surmised. Not to mention the restrictions it would have put on Erik for over ten years, as he waited for the person his parents wanted him to marry, to grow up.

“G-d, actually it sounds horrible,” Charles realized. “That’s not common now, is it? Child bonds?”

“Our fathers were old school,” Erik claimed, which seemed to leave a lot out. “You’ve always been such a spoiled little s—t,” he went on, more animatedly, and Charles’s eyebrows rose. “Following me around, getting in my things, just bugging the h—l out of me. My mother said I had to be nice to you,” he added, rolling his eyes, and he sounded so much like a petulant adolescent that Charles laughed.

“What changed?” he wanted to know.

“Who says anything has?” Erik shot back. “Well, you finally got old enough to mess around with,” he continued off-hand, and Charles wanted to scoff but the thought of ‘messing around with’ Erik was too intriguing to dismiss. “And I thought _maybe_ this wouldn’t be _completely_ horrible.”

“Not completely horrible,” Charles said, mimicking Erik’s tone from earlier. “That’s what every Omega wants to hear about their marriage.”

Erik smirked in a way that said he didn’t think Charles was really offended, though if he was, he’d best just get over it. From the territorial gleam in his eye Charles did not think Erik minded as much as he claimed, though. Before Charles could relax too much, however, a cramp seized him and he winced slightly.

“Do you need more Tylenol?” Erik offered. “Actually a hot bath might be better.”

Charles stopped him from leaving the couch with a bold hand on his arm. “Don’t go,” he said, then added quickly, “to any trouble, please.” Not quickly enough to fool Erik, though. “Just, um—where did you say my mother was?”

Erik saw the intent behind that one as well. “If you want to call someone, call Raven,” he countered. “She will confirm what I’ve told you.”

“No, I believe you,” Charles assured him. He was getting distracted, was all, between feeling vaguely cruddy but also rather turned on, especially as Erik loomed closer on the couch. “I just—This is not how I thought this would be.”

Charles was not aware he was snuffling at the sweatshirt until Erik adjusted it for him, with a very Alpha smirk. “How did you think it would be?” he asked, sliding his arm around Charles’s shoulders without subtlety.

The sweatshirt was nice, but _real_ Erik, fresh and sharp, the heat from his skin lifting the scent farther, was nearly overwhelming. “I thought—um—“ _You’re mine_ , Erik said in a flash of memory, growled without even touching him. _I’m yours_ , Charles answered.

Charles snapped his eyes back open, to realize Erik was merely reaching past him to grab a mobile phone on the side table. “Sorry, what?” said Charles. Erik’s smirk was getting quite a workout now. “You could’ve just told me it was there,” he added, of the phone, trying not to pout as Erik pushed himself away to the other side of the couch.

“Raven,” Erik prompted, indicating the phone. “I wouldn’t want to confuse you further.” His hand started to reach for Charles’s foot again, then froze and withdrew, and Charles suddenly imagined how difficult this was for him, too—to not pounce on his injured Omega, not knowing if that would only upset him more. Deliberately he tapped his foot against Erik’s leg, seeking attention, and the Alpha acquiesced.

“Raven,” Charles repeated, scrolling through the contacts list. “Is this _my_ phone?” he asked with a frown.

Erik suddenly realized what Charles must be seeing, which wiped the smirk off his face. “No, it’s mine. Let me—“

“Old Fart,” Charles read derisively from the contacts list. “Commie Devil. Dirty B-----d. Blond B---h. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m told I have anger management issues,” Erik deadpanned.

“Oh, by whom?” Charles asked, as if he couldn’t imagine such a thing.

“Most of the people on that list,” Erik admitted. “Raven is Blue She-Devil.”

“What? Why?” Charles scoffed.

Erik started to explain, then gave up. “Long story.”

“What am I?” Charles demanded, squinting at the tiny photos to see if he recognized himself.

“SLS.”

Charles thought for a moment. “Spoiled Little S—t?” He somehow could not get offended, it was obviously Erik’s own problem.

“I had to abbreviate after my mother saw it,” Erik confessed.

“You’re so hostile,” Charles judged, happy that he felt safe doing so, teasing Erik like that. He dialed the Blue She-Devil’s number.

“Your sister has my ringtone set to ‘Sympathy for the Devil,’” Erik informed him with amusement.

“G-d, you’re _all_ hostile.”

The phone picked up. “ _Erik?_ ” said an unfamiliar female voice. “ _How’s Charles? I thought you’d be going at it like bunnies right now—_ “

“Um, hi… Raven,” Charles interrupted. Seriously, that was a weird name.

“ _Charles? Oh my G-d, are you okay?_ ” Raven demanded energetically. “ _Did you give Erik a heart attack?_ ”

“No,” he assured her. Apparently his sister was a character as well. “Um, the thing is, I woke up this morning and I don’t remember anything. Erik says you’re my sister.”

There was silence. Charles supposed that was quite a bomb to drop on someone. “ _Are you s------g me?_ ” Raven exclaimed. “ _Are you, like, f-----g prank-calling me on your_ honeymoon _?_ ” Her voice became mildly more confidential. “ _Can Erik not get it up or something?_ ”

“No. No,” Charles insisted with a frown, ignoring the last bit. “Why would I make this up?” They had both suggested that—was he really that sort of person? “Why—Wait, are you American? Why would you be American?” At the other end of the couch Erik covered his mouth with his hand and snickered, which Charles found neither helpful nor mature.

“ _S—t_ ,” Raven swore, more seriously. “ _You have amnesia, like the doctor said might happen?_ ”

Charles seized upon this. “Yes, Erik was telling me about that. It’s a bit perplexing,” he added leadingly. “What happened to my face?”

“ _Oh my G-d, you got hit by an orderly!_ ” Raven blurted. “ _At the hospital. You don’t remember that? You were in the hospital, because of your heat, and they gave you suppressants but then Erik stopped them and the doctor said you might turn delusional or something_ —“

“Okay, can I—“ Charles tried to interrupt. “Okay, thank you, yes, that’s what Erik said.”

“ _Didn’t you believe him?_ ” Raven asked in confusion, as if trusting Erik was the most basic thing in the world. Charles took comfort in that.

“Well, I didn’t know him,” he pointed out, “when I woke up.” Erik carefully focused his attention on rubbing Charles’s feet.

“ _G-d. Poor Erik_ ,” Raven replied, surprisingly. “ _Don’t ever tell him I said that. How’s he been?_ ”

“Um, nice, yeah, Erik’s been nice,” Charles told her slowly. “And also a bit of an a-----e,” he admitted, which made Erik burst into laughter.

“ _Yeah, that’s normal for Erik_ ,” Raven confirmed.

“I think he’s also rather worried, though,” Charles added, watching to see how Erik reacted to this. He gave only a slight eyebrow raise, however.

“ _He’s gotta be freaking out_ ,” Raven predicted.

“Oh, right, you’re an Alpha.” Charles remembered Erik saying that—that would explain her empathy to his point of view. “Do you have your own Omega?”

“ _I’m younger than you, Charles_ ,” Raven pointed out.

“Oh, well, I didn’t know,” he reminded her. “Shouldn’t you be in school, then?” This made Erik chuckle again.

“ _You’re freaking_ me _out, Charles_ ,” Raven declared. “ _Are you okay? You seem calm. Calm is good. Are you going back to the hospital?_ ”

Charles absolutely did not want to go back to the hospital, he felt that like a physical blow to his chest. “No, no, I’m not going back there—“ He was afraid he sounded slightly panicky, his mind suddenly flooded with sickly green oppressive walls and a pervasive antiseptic scent, accompanied by fear and helplessness.

Erik slid in next to him, his arm around Charles as he snatched the phone away. “Raven?” Charles buried his face against Erik’s chest, breathing deeply. “Well, he _was_ fine, what did you say to him?” Erik’s fingers combed through Charles’s tangled hair. “He’s probably remembering that, then. Can’t say I blame him… Well it’s not _my_ f-----g fault, is it?” Charles could hear Raven squawking on the other end of the line and snuggled more into Erik, feeling comforted that he had two Alphas worried about him. “No, the little s—t tried to fool me at first. I ended up chasing him into the f-----g snow.”

Charles signaled for the phone back. “Raven? It’s okay, Erik is taking good care of me,” he promised her. Alphas could be protective of their Omega relatives also, he remembered. “He’s very vigilant about ice packs. Were you at the hospital with me? Thank you for helping.”

Charles was just trying to be polite, but Raven responded as though he was an alien clone of her brother. “ _Okay, yeah, no problem. You really can’t remember anything, huh? Like, you don’t remember_ me _, or…?_ ”

“No, I’m sorry,” Charles told her sincerely. “It’s probably just temporary. Er, please don’t take it personally.”

“ _No, no, it’s cool_ ,” Raven assured him. “ _Hey, do you remember you owe me fifty bucks from last week?_ ”

“Do not f—k with him, Raven!” Erik snarled, loud enough for her to hear.

Charles gave him a chiding look and reluctantly sat up a little. “Very funny,” he told Raven. “Please don’t upset Erik further.”

“ _No, I’m just kidding_ ,” she agreed, amused by her ability to cause trouble. “ _Seriously, are you okay, though? Aside from not remembering anything? Did you and Erik, you know?_ ”

“None of your business,” Charles told her primly.

“ _Well, take some aspirin_ ,” she advised, “ _because I remember from all those times we pranked him in the shower that he is pretty well—_ “

“Raven!” Charles stuttered, face flushing, while Erik just sighed with resignation and leaned his head back against the couch. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much for your concern.” He was about to say good-bye when he thought of something else to ask her, much as he feared what might come out of her mouth. “Have you heard from our mother? I thought I should probably call and let her know I’m alright, well, more or less—“

“ _Do you remember her?_ ” Now Raven just sounded confused.

“Well, no—“

“ _Charles, honey, she—well, I don’t think you could reach her_ ,” Raven said, her tone oddly delicate.

“Erik said she was a neglectful b---h.”

“ _Oh, good_.” That was not _usually_ news that made people sigh with relief, was it? “ _I totally believe your amnesia now, by the way, I was still a little skeptical up to this point. I’m glad Erik told you that, so I didn’t have to_ ,” Raven burbled. “ _So no point in calling her, I doubt she even knows or cares that anything’s happening. I mean I left her messages, of course_ —“

“Oh.” Charles had been hoping that maybe Erik was exaggerating, mad about this one incident. It was rather awful, wasn’t it, if your own mother didn’t care about you?

“ _Charles? Honey?_ ”

“No, I’m okay,” he promised, trying to brighten up for her. “I’m really good, Erik’s here, so I’ll be fine.”

“ _Okay, good_ ,” Raven pronounced. “ _I’m glad you let me know, though. Can I talk to Erik again?_ ”

Charles handed the phone to Erik and cuddled up against him, trying to breathe steadily and remember, or rather list, the people who _did_ care about him, even if his mother wasn’t there: Erik. Raven. Erik’s mother.

“Don’t threaten me,” Erik said coldly into the phone.

“Don’t fight, please!” Charles said loudly. He refused to let Erik get up and take the conversation elsewhere.

“I will take care of him… Yes, if I think it’s necessary,” Erik promised Raven, through gritted teeth. “Fine.” He hung up and forcefully shoved the phone out of reach.

“She seems to have a lot of personality,” Charles judged fondly. “Where did that blanket go?”

Erik took this as his cue to tuck it in more carefully around Charles, assiduously sealing the drafts. Charles could get very sleepy, he decided, with Erik’s scent and warmth all around him. Especially with Erik being quiet, though it felt rather broody, and that probably wasn’t good for him.

“How are you doing?” Charles asked Erik solicitously, but the Alpha just rolled his eyes.

“You’re hungry,” Erik declared instead.

“I’m actually not,” Charles countered mildly. “I’m actually a bit nauseous still.”

“That’s because you haven’t eaten.” Charles hoped that if he said nothing Erik might drop it, unlikely as that seemed. “You smell hungry,” Erik added, sniffing at him.

“That seems a bit far-fetched,” Charles replied. “Are _you_ hungry? I don’t think you ate at all.” Omegas were supposed to be nurturing, weren’t they? And he’d only just now started thinking about how _Erik_ felt about all this—it must be very difficult to have your newly-bonded Omega basically reject you the day after you married. “Erik?”

His strong fingers combed idly through Charles’s hair. “Hmm? Oh, I could eat, I suppose,” he agreed without urgency.

Charles was very reluctant to push away, but a sense of duty gnawed at him—he had the basics down now, and knew he was safe and that people in the world cared about him. So, time to stop thinking only of himself. “Come on,” he told Erik, sitting up. “Let’s go down to the kitchen and I’ll make you something to eat.”

Erik seemed rather stunned by this offer, which Charles used to leverage him off the couch, before the Omega could change his mind and give up. “Well, this I have to see,” Erik finally responded, after appearing to reject a number of other comments.

Charles felt very bold leading Erik back through the house and made an effort to be more outgoing, to make up for his hesitancy earlier. “Do we come here often?” he asked, gazing around the hall for anything familiar. “It’s nice. Did we decorate it?”

“You’ve never been here before,” Erik informed him bluntly. “And I’ve hardly been since I bought it. It’s just supposed to be a safe retreat.”

“Oh yes, it feels very safe,” Charles promised, perhaps a bit nonsensically, picking his way down the stairs. “The view is lovely.”

He swore Erik rolled his eyes again. “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked abruptly.

“Honestly, I’m not really hurt,” Charles responded. “I mean, my knee is fine.” He didn’t walk with his face, after all. Though eating and talking bothered it more. “This is a lovely kitchen,” he went on as they entered it. “I was going to say that earlier, but I thought I was supposed to recognize it.”

Erik slid into the seat at the counter which Charles had vacated in a rush earlier, and Charles busied himself clearing away the cold remains of his eggs, trying not to gag. He forced himself to take a bite of his abandoned toast, hoping it might settle his stomach. “Betty and Carl didn’t ask about skiing, did they?” he surmised.

“There’s no Betty and Carl,” Erik corrected. “Why were you trying to fool me?”

Charles stared into the refrigerator, looking for something he knew how to make. “Oh, I don’t know.”

“Charles.” Erik was not going to be satisfied with that answer.

“Well, what would _you_ do, if you woke up and didn’t know what was going on?” Charles posed, retrieving the eggs. He wasn’t sure what to do with them, but how hard could it be?

“I would probably jump up and demand, ‘What the h—l is going on here?’” Erik predicted dryly. “Turn the burner on under the pan.”

Charles did so. “That’s very Alpha.”

“All the way to high,” Erik added. “You’re saying you pretended, because as an Omega you were scared of me?” He frowned, troubled by this.

“It seemed safer,” Charles tried to explain. He opened the egg carton.

“Don’t add the eggs yet,” Erik instructed. “Put some butter in the pan, let it get hot. Why would you be afraid of me?” he wanted to know. “You said you knew me, even when you first woke up.”

Charles went back to the fridge for the butter, feeling it prudent to leave aside how pushy and rude Erik could be, just based on recent evidence. “I meant, I knew your _name_ , and that I _ought_ to know you,” he clarified. “But I didn’t know—“

“Not that much,” Erik interrupted, of the butter. “That’s good. Tilt the pan, swirl it around.”

“But I didn’t know what kind of person you were,” Charles continued, watching the butter melt and bubble.

“But you just assumed I would react badly.”

Charles delayed by returning to the fridge and shuffling through the drawers. “Do we have any bacon? I could make you some bacon, too,” he offered brightly.

He turned around when Erik didn’t answer. “I’m Jewish,” he reminded Charles, and the Omega deflated.

“Oh. Sorry.” It was rather difficult, trying to stick to his plan of being more upbeat, when he was constantly realizing everything he ought to know but didn’t. Not to mention, Erik interrogating him about his thought process. “I’m sorry I’ve temporarily lost all my domestic skills,” he added in a brighter tone, which was not entirely sincere. “I expect they’ll come back.”

Erik’s eyes held faint amusement for a moment. “That’s okay. Watch the butter,” he warned. “Leave the eggs alone, I’ll tell you when to add them. _Why_ did you assume I would react badly, to you needing help?”

“I just—“ It was difficult and frustrating, trying to explain. Erik had probably never been afraid of anyone in his life, felt helpless and powerless, at someone else’s mercy. “It just seemed safer,” he repeated quietly, staring at the pan.

“Eggs,” Erik prompted after a moment, and Charles cracked an egg on the side of the pan. This was more difficult than he had figured, however, and he ended up making a mess.

Erik was off the chair and right behind Charles before he could fear it. “It’s okay, just pick that big piece of shell out,” he advised, reaching around to help. His fingers tangled with Charles’s, getting slimy with egg, and he reached out a long arm to snag a dishtowel for them. “Strike it sharply, like this,” he went on, demonstrating with a second egg. It emptied perfectly into the pan, sizzling and popping.

 “Now-now what?” Charles asked shakily. He didn’t want to get too close to the hot stove, which left him pressed back against Erik, who had no qualms about taking full advantage of the situation and nuzzling his neck, making Charles shiver, in a good way.

“Scramble the eggs like this,” Erik explained, picking up the spatula. Then he turned it over to Charles, settling his arms around his waist. “Just keep pushing it around.”

“No wonder you’re good at this,” Charles dared to observe, and was rewarded with a chuckle he could feel up and down his spine.

“Well, it’s what you told Raven,” Erik claimed. “I’m a bit of an a-----e. Normally it’s not a problem, you just take the p—s. I’m not used to being _nice_ to you.” Charles rolled his eyes, glad Erik couldn’t see. “But I don’t want you to be _afraid_ of me, Schatzi,” he added. “I wouldn’t hurt you.” His touch was very careful now, as if he was afraid Charles would break.

“I’m—I’m not afraid of you now,” Charles told him. He feared his voice did not sound very strong, but that was not due to apprehension, not with Erik so close, surrounding him, petting him.

“Good. Watch the eggs,” Erik added, his tone taking a sharp turn as Charles neglected his duties.

This did serve to clear Charles’s mind, at least. “Well, if I’m normally so different, how did I fool you at all?” he asked pointedly.

“Mmm,” Erik responded vaguely, which didn’t bode well for his answer. “I thought you were subdued because… you didn’t feel well,” he confessed. “I felt guilty.”

“Are they done?” Charles questioned of the eggs, unsure what to do with Erik’s admission. It seemed sweet, but maybe he wouldn’t appreciate being told that.

“Yes, I think so,” Erik agreed, and finally stepped back a pace so Charles could grab a plate and awkwardly dump the eggs onto it. Charles was not very impressed with the yellow lumps, but Erik seemed happy. “Delicious,” he claimed.

“There’s a bit of shell there,” Charles warned.

“Extra calcium. I swear to G-d, Charles,” Erik chuckled, “that is the first time you have ever touched an egg in your life, unless you were throwing it at me.”

Charles looked up from where he was carefully putting bread in the toaster. “What? I thought I just couldn’t remember.”

Erik seemed very pleased with himself. “No, you _have_ no domestic skills,” he stated. “I should’ve taken a picture and sent it to Raven, she’ll never believe it.”

Charles sighed. At least Erik was taking this well, right? And eating the eggs. “I suppose I’ll have to learn, then,” he shrugged. “How long until you go back to work? It might be rather simple meals at first—“ Erik was staring at him. As if he was still surprised that Charles didn’t remember things. Which was irritating, frankly. “I know you’re rather traditional, but even if I’m home all day you can’t expect me to come up with gourmet meals right away—“

Erik had choked a little as Charles spoke and finally set his empty plate aside. “ _Traditional_?” he sputtered, as if he considered this an insult, and Charles froze, wondering if he was about to get everything wrong again. “Why in the h—l would you think that?”

“You—you bit me, a bond-bite—“ Charles began uncertainly. The toast popped, forgotten.

“You bit me _first_ ,” Erik shot back. “I thought you were going to rip out my jugular.”

Charles did not recall this. “Oh. Really? I’m sorry. Oh, did you ever bandage that—“ Erik had been so diligent about taking care of _his_ injuries.

Defensively Erik brushed off his hand. “It’s fine. Could I have my toast, please?”

Charles retrieved the toast. “And you said _you_ weren’t doing the cooking, which leaves _me_ ,” he continued. Clearly Erik had no problem with giving orders.

“No, it leaves my _staff_ ,” Erik corrected. “And takeaway. And leftovers from my mother.”

“Oh.” So by ‘doing alright’ Erik had actually meant ‘loaded.’ Not really a surprise. “And what am I meant to be doing all day?” Charles checked curiously. With the contraceptive shot he wouldn’t be getting pregnant for a month or so, but maybe after that…

“Well if you _want_ to stay home and not cook, that’s fine with me,” Erik claimed, crunching his toast. “But what we _planned_ was that you’d continue with school.” Charles’s eyes widened in astonishment at this, his hopes rising. “There’s an all-Omega high school not far from my apartment. Anyway, you’re not really in a good state of mind to change things at the moment—“

“ _Really_?” Charles interrupted with excitement.

Erik frowned. “Yes, really, you can barely remember anything—“

“I meant about the school!” Charles clarified.

“Oh. Yes, really,” Erik repeated. “Are you going to cry?” He sounded mildly put out, threatening to spoil the moment, then quickly reversed himself. “Uh, sorry. Come here.”

Charles buried his face against Erik’s chest freely, exulting in the strong arms that wrapped around him. “I just—when I woke up I was so worried and confused, and now it seems like everything is perfect,” he sighed happily, unembarrassed by his teary eyes. It was not mere relief that his worst fears had gone unrealized, but actual astonishment that his life was so fortunate.

He felt Erik scoff against him. “Hardly perfect,” he countered. “You’ve still got to put up with _me_. That was a very Omega thing to say, by the way,” he added before Charles could protest his self-deprecation. “Ridiculously sentimental. I’ll be glad when you’re back to normal.”

Charles would not be swayed. He might not remember his long history with Erik at the moment, but he felt he had a handle on him. “I think you’re nice,” he stated, a touch defiantly.

Erik’s lips brushed his head. “Well, don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to protect,” he muttered. “Your brain is addled with hormones right now anyway, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

Charles did not bother disputing that, because he had gotten distracted squeezing Erik. “You must spend a lot of time working out,” he observed, trying to be casual. He rubbed Erik’s back through the pullover. “You seem very fit. Is that a hobby of yours?”

“Oh G-d.”

Charles took a deep sniff, suddenly needing Erik’s scent more than oxygen. “You smell really good.” Like food Charles was starving for, fresh rain on the parched earth, something intoxicating he was compelled to follow.

“Charles—“

And Erik was _his_ , all his! His _husband_ , his Alpha, and they would look after each other and Charles could touch him whenever he wanted. He gave a little tug on Erik’s shoulders, bringing him down a bit so he could brush his lips against Erik’s. Charles didn’t recall much in the way of technique but muscle memory took over and in a moment they were kissing breathlessly, Erik’s fingers digging into his hair to position Charles the way he preferred. Somehow Charles had not doubted that if he started it, Erik would finish it.

But he could still help things along, and Charles slipped his hands under Erik’s shirt, teasing the hot skin there, and straddled his leg, which had felt so nice when Erik initiated it earlier. Erik groaned against Charles’s neck that he was sucking on, which Charles would’ve counted as a win except he was busy trying to climb higher, because d—n but Erik was tall—

“Charles. Charles, stop.” Charles broke off and Erik pushed him back, holding his wrists to keep him at arm’s length. Erik’s lips were swollen and he was panting slightly, but his hair was still perfectly in place and Charles had the strongest desire to mess it up, just to see how it looked. “Charles.” Erik was trying to get his attention.

“What?” He was a fresh young Omega in heat, there should be no way Erik could resist him, right? So what was there to even _talk_ about? Well, maybe location. “Let’s go back to bed,” Charles suggested.

“No—“

Charles didn’t think he could make it upstairs, either. “Is there a couch?”

“You little s—t, why do you f-----g _do_ this to me?” Erik snapped angrily, which helped to clear Charles’s head a bit. Erik let go of him but gave him a hard look when he started to move, then quickly put himself on the other side of the counter, scrubbing his face with his hands.

Charles forced himself to stay still, which was difficult but not as difficult as it had been a moment ago. “Are you angry at me?” he guessed. “Did I do something wrong?” He wouldn’t have thought Erik one to complain about _form_.

Erik sighed heavily and propped his chin on his hand, watching Charles as though wondering what he was going to do with him. Charles had some ideas if Erik needed help. “We are not having sex,” Erik finally stated. That was _not_ one of Charles’s ideas.

Charles blinked slowly, the words taking a while to filter through his brain. “Ever?”

“Until you get your memory back.”

Erik seemed very confident about this. Charles judged that he could be stubborn if pushed straight on. “Are you punishing me?” Charles asked with a frown, pouting slightly. That didn’t seem fair.

Erik put his head down on the counter in defeat, though it snapped back up when Charles moved an inch closer. “Charles, you can’t even remember _yesterday_ ,” he pointed out.

“It doesn’t seem to have been that great,” Charles noted coolly. The hospital part, anyway.

“You’re not—we’re not having sex until you’re mentally competent to really consent—“

“Are you calling me incompetent?” Charles took from that. Part of him was beginning to calm down and understand what Erik was trying to do, but the rest still wanted to leap across the counter and tackle him to the floor.

“Charles, would you give me a g-----n break here?” Erik demanded sharply. “I am trying, for once, to not be an a-----e, which obviously is not easy for me—“

“Oh,” Charles realized dully. “Oh, you’re trying to be nice.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t very clear.”

“Yeah,” Erik sighed.

“It’s just,” Charles persisted, scooting forward a smidgen, “you’ve been very hands-on to this point, so I thought you were just waiting on me…” Erik looked so good when he was trying to be noble. No, no, he shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“Schatzi, you drive me f-----g crazy,” Erik replied, which he seemed to mean as some sort of answer. “I haven’t got a master plan here. I’m just trying to take care of you. Are you hungry yet?”

“Erik, may I be honest with you?” Charles asked politely. He had managed to creep up to the counter, though the rational part of his brain was still in control.

“Please do.”

“Please stop offering me food,” Charles requested. “Just the thought of it makes me ill. I will let you know if that changes.”

Erik frowned, in an adorably concerned way, and Charles leaned on the counter to be a little closer to him. “There’s no point in me asking you _why_ you feel sick, is there?” he finally decided.

“I assumed the answer was obvious,” Charles noted. “Heat, and drugs, and whatever.”

Erik nodded slightly. “How can you feel like having sex, and feel sick at the same time?” he wanted to know. “I don’t want you throwing up on me in bed.”

His comment was tactless but it made Charles smile, and Erik’s gaze kept straying to his lips. “I think having sex would cancel out the nausea,” Charles proposed.

“So what you’re saying is”—they were only a few inches apart now—“I’m better than bicarbonate?” Erik asked dryly.

Charles grinned. “Loads.”

Erik smiled, slowly, heartbreakingly. “Charles, you are a f-----g tease,” he judged. “But I knew that already. Come on.” He backed off abruptly but signaled for Charles to join him, easily taking his hand.

“Where are we going?” Charles asked, as Erik pulled him through the house.

“Upstairs. I’m going to clean up the bedroom, then you’re going to take a nap,” Erik planned with determination.

Charles tried to keep up with him on the stairs. “You’re a neat freak, aren’t you?” he guessed.

“And a control freak,” Erik admitted readily.

“Yes, I got that.”

Charles felt the fire within him lower itself to a dull smolder, where it might stay if he could find something to think about other than the way Erik’s back moved as he strode down the hall, and how long and elegant his bare feet were, and how strong his hand that gripped Charles’s…

“I can smell you, so stop,” Erik ordered in a tight voice. “Having sex with you right now would hurt you, and I’m not going to hurt you.” Charles thought Erik was trying to convince himself more than anyone else at this point, and his mood rapidly softened from lust to sentimental affection.

“You’re so good to me, Erik!” Charles proclaimed, embracing him from behind. The move seemed to startle Erik but Charles just wanted to cuddle with him. “And I’ll take such good care of _you_! I’ll learn to cook, I promise. I can pack your lunches every day!”

“G-d, _I_ may be sick,” Erik commented, turning in Charles’s arms. “You really have gone insane. I wouldn’t sleep with you now even if you had your memory back, there’s clearly something else wrong with you.” Charles just chuckled at these words, knowing that they were Erik-speak for something nicer. Exactly what, he wasn’t sure yet.

“What do I smell like to you?” Charles wanted to know, not letting Erik escape from him although they were in sight of his goal, the bedroom.

Idly Erik ran his fingers through Charles’s hair, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Smell like? Um… good.”

Hidden against Erik’s chest Charles rolled his eyes. “Can you be more descriptive, please? I think _you_ smell like oranges and wood smoke!” Woodsy, cozy, mysterious, intriguing, refreshing…

Erik laughed rather heartlessly at this, until Charles looked up at him with a frown. Then he laughed even harder. “That’s too poetic for me,” he tried to dismiss, but Charles dug his nails into Erik’s lower back and refused to let him go. “Ouch. Really? You smell good. Right now—well, a moment ago, before you started clawing me—you smelled… cuddly.”

“Cuddly,” Charles repeated flatly. “I’m not entirely sure that’s a scent, Erik.”

“And in the kitchen, you smelled sexy.” Those were Erik’s descriptions and he was sticking to them. “What’s the problem here? I know your scent. I _like_ your scent.” He leaned down to murmur in Charles’s ear. “If you tried to run away again, I could track your scent through the woods.”

Charles shivered briefly at the imagery, at the primal instinct behind being chased, hunted, _caught_ by his Alpha—all in good fun, of course, knowing Erik would never hurt him, but with that _frisson_ of underlying fear nonetheless. That seemed wrong still. _Was_ it wrong? He could no longer tell.

“Creeping back towards sexy,” Erik judged with amusement. “Oh, I know what you smell like,” he decided suddenly, piquing Charles’s interest.

“Yes?”

“Around Hanukkah my mother makes this fantastic apple strudel—well, you wouldn’t remember—with cinnamon and nutmeg and I don’t know what else.” Erik sighed happily. “That’s what you make me think of.”

Charles was silent as he processed this, trying not to let his confusion hurt Erik’s feelings, since he had at least tried. “So, I smell like a really sexy apple pie?” he rephrased. “Well, that’s lovely—“

He realized he needn’t have worried about Erik’s feelings as the man laughed again. Twice in two minutes? That had to be a record, at least in the time Charles remembered. So that made him happy.

“Sorry, Schatzi, that’s all I’ve got,” Erik shrugged. “Apple cinnamon baked goods. Which is at least based on something I like in other contexts. I’ve never noticed you being especially fond of oranges or fire before.”

“An unfair observation as I can’t counter it,” Charles noted, but he snuggled back against Erik, pleased to have gotten an answer. He tried to think cuddly apple cinnamon thoughts and send them Erik’s way.

“You have successfully distracted me,” Erik realized, transferring his grip to Charles’s upper arms and gently pushing him back. “I still have Alpha things to do. Prepare the cave properly and all. I should put a mini-fridge and a microwave in there, then we wouldn’t have to leave at all…”

Charles could see Erik was getting quite caught up in his plans—obviously he followed the typical Alpha pattern of wanting to be a provider and protector, even if he had somewhat more enlightened views about Omegas and balked at the label of ‘traditional.’ Charles didn’t want to get in the way of that, even if, in this time and place, there was really no need for an Alpha’s more primal instincts. _Especially_ because of that.

“Okay,” he nodded readily.

“You wait out here,” Erik directed, bodily putting Charles where he wanted him in the hallway. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” He stepped back, as if making sure Charles was going to stay put, then went into the bedroom and shut the door.

Charles had meant to wait patiently. He should have been _able_ to wait patiently. But the moment the barrier formed between him and Erik, he felt something crumple in his chest. It was like Erik had just left on a very long trip, and Charles had forgotten to hug him good-bye. It wasn’t just the crushing ache of separation but a sense that Charles had done something _wrong_ , failed to show his love properly when Erik most needed it, and he would have to wait a long time to make up for that, maybe he would _never_ get the chance—

Charles staggered back against the wall and slid down it, drawing his knees up under his chin and shaking with the breaths he couldn’t catch, his tears choking and blinding him. Despair paralyzed him—guilt, rejection, self-doubt, so hot and sudden as to be almost unnatural, a rapid-fire cascade of chemicals in his brain that jerked him mercilessly, like a dog with a chew toy.

Immediately Erik was back, scent, voice, touch shoving aside the fog in Charles’s mind. His hands ghosted over Charles’s face and hair, his tone concerned and questioning. Finally he simply pulled Charles into the position he wanted him in, settled on Erik’s lap with his arms around him, surrounding the Omega as much as possible until Charles took a deep, shuddery breath and felt reassurance, sanity, start to return.

“Charles?” Erik asked, not for the first time.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Charles replied, looking back on the last few moments with confusion and embarrassment. “I don’t know why I—What’s wrong with me?” He sighed in defeat and leaned back against Erik, inhaling his warm, comforting scent.

This heat was not sexy _at all_.

“What’s wrong is you have an idiot for an Alpha,” Erik asserted darkly, and Charles was shocked.

“Don’t say that, Erik!” he admonished immediately, then hugged the other man close. “You’ve done so well, under trying circumstances.” From the sound of it Charles had been rather _trying_ from the day they were bonded, yet Erik had come to genuinely care about him anyway. He wanted to be even closer to Erik, to try and convey his understanding and gratitude, and leaned over to nuzzle his neck, his fingers slipping under the collar of the black pullover. “I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble…”

“You are a f-----g metric ton of trouble,” Erik agreed, but he allowed himself to be pet. “I shouldn’t have left you out here. It’s just you’re more hindrance than help when it comes to cleaning.”

“I’m sure I should _try_ to be helpful, Erik.”

“No, not really,” he contradicted. “Usually you follow behind me messing up what I’ve just straightened.”

Charles frowned at this assessment, having no way to gauge its accuracy or completeness. “Am I a bad person?” he worried. One wouldn’t suspect oneself of that by default, but given the evidence…

Erik seemed amused by his sudden angst. “No, you’re just a spoiled brat who never had to take anything seriously,” he clarified. This did not seem like much improvement to Charles. “Well, that’s not true,” Erik reversed. “Things have been hard for you, and you deal with them by being a spoiled little s—t and there’s no one to tell you to stop.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” Charles asked dubiously.

“No,” Erik assured him. “I’m trying to be honest. It is pathetically obvious when you are disappointed by your mother, your behavior towards me becomes exponentially more obnoxious and attention-seeking.”

This was not progressing. “Oh.”

Erik seemed slightly surprised by his response and started stroking his fingers down Charles’s face, avoiding the bruises. “That’s not meant as a criticism,” he claimed. “I was just saying I understand. I’ve understood for a long time. And I would’ve gotten you out of there sooner but you managed to thwart me with a late heat.”

“I’m sure I had no control over that,” Charles said softly.

“No. If you’d made it to eighteen I would’ve taken you home anyway.”

Charles felt tears welling in his eyes again. He was such a mess—pathetic, as Erik had rightly said—unable to get anything right, including how he ought to treat someone who cared about him. Nor could he be accurate in his self-assessment, since he had started out worrying that _Erik_ was the problem. And—his fault or not—his biology couldn’t even comply and keep a fundamental transition relatively simple.

“You smell like _rancid_ apple pie, so stop whatever you’re brooding about,” Erik instructed. “Also, I shut the door because I didn’t want you to see the bed.”

The non-sequitur was a successful distraction. “What? I’ve seen the bed.”

“Did you see the blood?”

“Yes. Rather obvious when it came from _me_.” He understood what Erik was getting at though, like his guilt about Charles being sore, and rubbed the Alpha’s chest soothingly. “It’s perfectly natural. Isn’t it? I think I remember it is.”

“I could’ve done without it,” Erik understated.

“Which would’ve required me to have sex with someone else first,” Charles pointed out, and he felt Erik’s whole body give an involuntary jerk to curl him closer. It was perhaps a bit mean to say, but served its point.

“I would not be in favor of that,” Erik deadpanned, when he got himself together.

“Me neither,” Charles agreed, “so I suggest not worrying about it so much.”

“Thanks, I’ll just switch that off,” Erik replied, a bit sharply. Charles stayed quiet, cradled in his arms, until Erik calmed. “Alright, get up,” he ordered abruptly, and Charles hurriedly stood. “Sometimes, the way you smell makes me want to sit around doing nothing, with you,” Erik declared, which might have been a romantic statement had Erik not said it so crisply, coupled with a suspicious gaze at Charles.

“That sounds nice,” Charles tried anyway, and Erik rolled his eyes, grabbing Charles’s hand and dragging him through the bedroom doorway. “Doesn’t it?”

“No!” Erik insisted energetically, as if to make up for the contentment earlier. “How would things get done in the world, if we all just sat around? Stand right here and don’t move.”

Obediently Charles stayed near the door while Erik finished stripping the bed and stuffing the sheets in a hamper. “Now you can help me remake it,” Erik allowed, returning with a pile of fresh sheets. He started with the pillowcases while Charles gingerly unfolded what seemed not so much a sheet as a crinkled bundle of fabric, cinched around the edges like a giant shower cap.

“That’s the fitted sheet,” Erik informed him, attempting to keep a straight face. “It goes around the mattress.”

Charles turned it fruitlessly several times, trying to orient it. “I’ve never made a bed before, have I?” he guessed.

“I should very much doubt it,” Erik agreed, making only the smallest effort to conceal his amusement.

“Perhaps it would be good for me to learn these things,” Charles ventured as they spread the sheets out together.

“Why bother?” Erik shrugged. “That’s what money’s _for_ , to pay someone else to do tedious things.”

“But do I—I mean, what _am_ I good at?” Charles tried to sound curious rather than self-pitying. “Nothing domestic, you said.”

“You’re very good at school, especially science,” Erik told him matter-of-factly. “You want to study genetics, maybe become a professor. You’re very good at explaining things.”

Charles stared at him, pillow in hand. “Really?”

“That seems odd to you?” Erik indicated where the pillow should go, which Charles actually did know already.

“It seems very… ambitious,” Charles replied cautiously.

“For an Omega?” There was a hint of challenge there and Charles knew he shouldn’t say yes.

“For anyone,” he clarified. “For me, if I’m not used to taking things seriously.”

Erik shrugged, adjusting the blankets—he’d piled at least four on top of the sheets. “You always seem very certain about it,” he told Charles. “I expect you can do it.” His straightforward confidence—not to mention that he seemed comfortable with that outcome, when some Alphas would feel threatened—made Charles grin brightly. Erik smiled back for a moment, real and warm, then switched gears to indicate the bed. “Get in.”

He stood and watched until Charles climbed under the fresh sheets, then tucked him in so tightly Charles felt pinned in place. “What are you going to do?” he asked Erik.

“Finish cleaning.” Erik gazed around the room as if they were living in a pig sty, when all Charles could see were a couple of shoes and coats lying about. If Erik was a neat freak then he was probably a slob. “Go to sleep,” he told Charles. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will you get in bed with me when you’re done?” Charles asked hopefully.

Erik did not entirely trust Charles, or maybe himself. “If you’re well-behaved.”

Charles nodded dutifully and tried to settle down. A moment ago he wouldn’t have said he was tired, but now that he was in bed where it was nice and warm, with Erik moving about the room with quiet determination, his eyes started to droop. He tried to stay awake to watch his Alpha—he liked the way Erik moved, graceful and strong like a dancer, purpose in every step even if his actions of moving this to there and that to here seemed a bit pointless to Charles. He was putting his den in order.

And, he was still Charles’s—the Omega had only to make a little cough or sniffle and Erik glanced up to see if he needed anything. It was a heady feeling, to have the attention of someone like Erik, who clearly brought such intelligence and intensity to everything he did. Parents’ decision or not, he would not be with Charles if he didn’t see something worthwhile in him.

Charles just hoped that the next time he woke up, he could remember what that something was.

**

Someone was shaking Erik to wake him up, and calling his name—no, not his name, just ‘Alpha.’ As this person could only be Charles, who clearly was in need of something, Erik tried to shake off the fuzziness of daytime sleep and attend to him.

“Alpha!”

“What, Charles?” Erik propped himself up on his elbow, to prevent himself from falling back asleep in the warm, apple cinnamon-y nest of pillows and blankets. The expression Charles wore was curiously blank. “How do you feel?”

“Will we mate?” Charles asked instead.

“No, we are not going to mate, g-------t,” Erik snapped. There was nothing he would like better, under the right circumstances, and their absence infuriated him. “Unless your memory is back. Is it back?” he asked, cautiously hopeful. Charles did not respond, however. “Charles?”

“Alpha, we should mate,” Charles insisted, and Erik started to get a bad feeling about this. Worse than he’d had before, which he hadn’t realized was possible.

“Charles, do you remember my name?” Erik asked, trying to stay calm.

“Alpha,” Charles responded. “Omega.” He indicated himself. “We’re bondmates.”

“Yes, we are,” Erik agreed, sitting up slowly. Charles mimicked him. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“We have mated before,” Charles said, which might have been meant as an answer, “but we should mate again.”

Okay, there was a name for this, Erik had read about it online after Charles fell asleep, when Erik was frantically googling every article he could find about heat-related amnesia. A traumatized Omega—or Alpha—could sometimes revert to a semi-primitive state with little concept of past or future, only their immediate needs. Since Charles hadn’t been experiencing that at the time, Erik had only skimmed that information, though he did recall that opinions were mixed on whether such desires should be indulged.

Erik’s gaze slid to his phone, which was over on the coffee table. “We don’t need to mate right now,” he told Charles. “You need more sleep. Are you hungry?”

“Don’t need food or sleep,” Charles insisted. “Need to mate now.” With that he shucked off his sweatshirt—Erik’s sweatshirt—and reached for his pajama bottoms.

Erik grabbed his hands to stop him. “No, we’re not going to mate right now!” he commanded, trying to sound very Alpha in the hopes of getting through to the lizard brain Charles was operating with.

It did not work, as Charles pushed his way onto Erik’s lap, releasing more of the crisp, exotic scent that drove Erik wild, and kissed him hungrily. Erik felt rational thought desert him as he kissed back, his hands sliding over Charles’s warm skin. He had been waiting for so long, and after the night before he finally realized what he’d been waiting _for_ and now he craved it more than ever—not just the high of sex but the intensity of the connection to Charles that he’d never felt with anyone else. And now Charles was warm and very willing in his arms, his lips only leaving Erik long enough to yank his shirt off, then he squeezed in closer still.

No one could blame him at this point, Erik was sure, and he tipped Charles backwards onto the bed, covering him with his body, pressing him down with his full weight for a long, delicious moment. He expected to hear Charles object but he only yanked Erik’s mouth down to his again. Finally Erik pulled back to let him breathe, smirking as he rolled his hips against Charles’s and elicited a groan of pleasure.

But when Charles opened his eyes again, the look in them startled Erik. Hungry, yes; eager and willing, desperate even; but devoid of recognition. There was no answering amusement, or lofty impatience, or craftiness planning to tease Erik in return, or joy in finally being in this situation after years of frustration. They were more like the eyes of a junkie looking for his next fix, not caring where it came from, and they stopped Erik cold.

“Alpha—“ Charles prompted with a frown, reaching for him.

Erik disentangled himself rapidly, stumbling off the bed. “You little b-----d,” he snarled. He knew it wasn’t Charles’s fault but he had to give vent to his anger. “Why do you put me in these f-----g positions?”

He was also well aware that Charles could not answer him coherently right now. “We are not in a f-----g position,” Charles replied in confusion, sitting up, and Erik had to sputter out a laugh at that as he yanked his jumper back on. Laugh or cry, honestly. Well, laugh or punch the wall.

“And we’re not going to be. No,” Erik said sharply, backing away from Charles’s grasping hands. What was he going to do, lock him in a closet? “G-------t, Charles, this was not how I wanted my honeymoon to go!”

“Alpha, please—“ Charles’s face crumpled like he was going to cry. “You no longer want me?”

Erik felt something cave in his chest in unison. G-d, when had he become so easy? “No, I want you, Charles, I want you,” he promised, allowing the teen to embrace him, like he was a life preserver bobbing in the stormy ocean. “Shh, it’s okay—Ow!” Charles had sunk his teeth into Erik’s neck as soon as he got close enough, which flared desire as well as anger through Erik, his own lizard brain recognizing the mating sign perfectly well. “You little f----r! Let go!”

Charles did, but probably only because he needed to, not on Erik’s orders, and Erik pushed him back to arm’s length and held him there. There was actual _blood_ around his mouth, Erik’s blood, and that really should not be such a turn-on. “Charles, listen to me. I love you, and I want you, but we cannot have sex right now.”

Charles tipped his head to the side, computing this, then his glance bounced around the room. “Is there danger?” he asked warily.

Erik seized this loophole eagerly. “Yes, there’s danger,” he confirmed. He was unprepared for Charles to suddenly drop to a crouch and fell over with him.

“There is danger,” Charles repeated, making himself very small, and Erik felt horrible. “Will you protect me, Alpha?”

“Yes, yes of course I’ll protect you,” Erik promised, embracing him. He could smell Charles’s scent changing to one of fear and cursed himself for adding to his trauma. “Look, look, you’re safe in this room,” he tried. “In the… den. You’re very safe here, there’s no need to be afraid.” He felt Charles calm somewhat. “That’s it, Schatzi, you’re safe here. But I have to go outside and, um, patrol, okay? To look out for danger.”

Charles nodded. “Alpha must protect Omega and pups.”

“Yes, exactly,” Erik agreed quickly. No need to remind Charles about that contraceptive shot. He stood awkwardly, pulling Charles up with him, and pushed him back towards the bed. “So you get under the blankets and keep warm, okay? Um, incubate.”

“Yes,” Charles agreed fiercely, wrapping his arms around his midsection. Erik hoped he was not upset later by pregnancy delusions.

“Get back in bed, and stay there,” Erik reiterated, helping him do so. “Well, you can use the bathroom if you want, it’s right over there. Please tell me you remember the bathroom and aren’t just going to p—s in a corner.” Charles merely blinked at him unhelpfully, as though he was spouting nonsense. Erik decided they could get new carpet. “And I will be outside the door, right out there, guarding you, okay?” Charles seemed still so Erik grabbed a pillow and blanket for himself.

“You will keep me safe, Alpha?” Charles questioned, with some uncertainty.

“Absolutely,” Erik vowed. He leaned back in to kiss Charles, which might have been foolish, but he didn’t try anything, and Erik smoothed his hair back comfortingly. “I will always keep you safe, Schatzi.” Even from himself.

Charles nodded, and Erik almost broken then, because tears were pricking the teen’s big blue eyes and Erik could imagine they carried sentiment beyond just wanting to get laid. But he forced himself away from the bed, not turning his back on Charles until he got to the door. After a moment’s hesitation, Erik twisted the lock from the inside, then pulled it shut with himself in the hallway. He didn’t think _he_ was traumatized enough to revert to a semi-primitive state, but, well—he didn’t like to think about Charles trying to deal with him if he did.

“F-----g little s—t,” he muttered in frustration, shoving away from the door to bed down in the hall, despite the light still coming in through the windows. Charles was not _actually_ sadistic enough to choose tormenting him over a normal honeymoon heat with copious sex, Erik was sure, but he would still probably find this hilarious when his memory came back. At least, Erik _hoped_ he would—that was better than Charles being upset, even if the humor was at Erik’s expense.

**

Dimly Erik heard his name, and someone was shaking him awake, and if he was facing any more s—t today he was going to pack up and take Charles to his mother, unsexy as that was. “Erik? Erik! Are you dead? Why are you on the floor out here? Why was the door locked? I don’t feel good. It’s all your fault, I’m so sore. Can we have sex now? Wake up already!”

“You little b-----d,” Erik repeated, as his eyes focused on Charles hanging right over his face. “What time is it?” The window was dark. “Long enough for you to come up with a new way to torture me?” he demanded.

“Erik!” That whiny tone sounded very familiar. “Can’t we have sex again? Even though I’m sore. You never said why you were out here. It’s not very nice to leave me alone in bed!”

Charles leaned down to kiss him, having crawled not very comfortably on top of Erik, but Erik grabbed his shoulders to keep him in place. “What do you remember?” he quizzed suspiciously.

“Oh, everything!” Charles claimed. “The hospital and the doctors and you coming to get me and driving here and our first night, and me having amnesia! My face hurts, I look awful. People will think you beat me!”

“I ought to,” Erik ventured experimentally, and Charles laughed as though it was beyond the realm of possibility. Erik sat up, dislodging the Omega but only temporarily as he clambered right back onto Erik’s lap and started messing up his hair. Erik had never been so grateful for the normally irritating gesture, but his hands around Charles’s waist were still at least half restraint. “You remember having amnesia?” he asked, untrusting.

“Yes!” Charles insisted with a laugh. “It was really weird. Like a dream, where you know the players but not the script.”

“What?” Erik asked in confusion, but Charles was not interested in introspection, and he darted forward and kissed Erik, settling closer over his hips. Well, he kissed like Charles, anyway. “Do you remember the last time you were awake?” Erik wanted to know. “When you just called me Alpha, and wanted to mate, and didn’t remember anything else?”

Charles laughed again. Erik had missed that sound, so easy and uninhibited. “No, that sounds like some ridiculous fantasy of yours,” he judged. “Me Omega, you Alpha.”

“Stop,” Erik said, holding him in place to stop his squirming, and Charles started to get pouty. “Don’t make that face at me,” Erik ordered him. “I have had a bad g-----n time with you from start to finish. I’m about to give up and go home.”

Cue whining. “Erik! It’s our _honeymoon_! Anyway none of it’s my fault,” Charles chattered, in a familiar way that was an immense relief to Erik. “And you were very mean to me when I couldn’t remember anything!” Charles accused. “You yelled at me and chased me into the snow!”

“You _ran_ into the—“

“I was _so_ scared of you!” Charles declared blithely. “Big, loud Alpha stomping around, grabbing me all the time.” He looked pointedly at Erik’s hands which still gripped his arms, and Erik let them drop. Charles promptly dove in to snuggle him. “So stupid really, being scared of _you_!”

Somehow the insult was comforting. “I don’t want you to be scared of me, Schatzi,” Erik agreed, holding him close.

Charles grinned, brilliantly. “I’m not, not when I know you,” he promised, with a touch of actual sincerity. He leaned in to kiss Erik again and Erik allowed it for as long as he could, before his conscience and need for air made it impossible. “Why do you keep pushing me away?” Charles complained. “I brushed my teeth!”

Erik cupped his cheeks in his hands, trying to hold the teen in place and convey the gravity of the situation. “Charles, I need to be certain that you really have your memory back,” he explained, overly cautious but this was something he didn’t wanted to screw up. “Tell me something that only the two of us know.”

Charles thought, his cherry red lips twisting in exasperation. Erik was imagining he’d come up with a story Erik had told him about his childhood, or some time they’d spent at Erik’s mother’s house—something he couldn’t have gotten from their phones or luggage or even calling Raven again, no matter how smart and desperate Charles was.

“Well, the washing machine incident comes to mind,” Charles answered with a wicked grin, and Erik’s eyes widened. “Maybe we could recreate that here! Can you believe I wanted to be more domestic?” He escaped from confinement to nuzzle at Erik’s neck. “I could do your laundry all the time!”

“I couldn’t do laundry for months after that without getting turned on,” Erik admitted, hands sliding over Charles’s ribs and hips. The teen snickered heartlessly. “You didn’t tell anyone about that? Not even Raven?”

“No, you said not to,” Charles reminded him as he started to push Erik’s shirt off.

“And you obeyed?”

“I was quite shocked at the time!” Charles claimed. “Molesting an underage Omega! Assault!”

Erik was slightly bothered by the fact that these charges didn’t bother him. “You’re not going to broadcast details of our sex life to anyone,” he warned. “No one.”

“We don’t _have_ much of a sex life, Erik!” Charles complained. He got Erik’s shirt off over his head. “On account of you trying to be so _noble_. You believe me now?”

“Yes, I believe you,” Erik decided. “And I was trying—“ It was difficult to think with Charles sucking and biting his way down Erik’s chest. “I didn’t want you to think I’d taken advantage of you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have cared,” Charles dismissed, and Erik rolled his eyes, wondering why he bothered sometimes. Charles could see Erik required further reassurance, however, and switched to an adoring tone. “You were so sweet to me, Erik! When you weren’t being mean. You gave me band-aids! And yelled at Raven. She said you must’ve been very upset.”

Snorting, Erik sat Charles up and began to examine the bruises on his face, tilting it how he wanted in the light. “I’m sorry you were upset. About everything,” Charles continued. “Even though it wasn’t my fault. Well, I shouldn’t have assumed Mother would file the paperwork properly—“ he started to add in a dejected tone.

Erik crushed Charles against him. “No, it’s not your fault, Schatzi,” he agreed, lips brushing his ear. “But I _was_ upset.”

“I could tell,” Charles sighed, snuggling up to him. “Obsessive-compulsive cleaning! Food-pushing! No, I don’t want to eat!” he added vehemently when Erik opened his mouth. “Don’t even think about it, it makes me quite ill. Do I really smell like apple cinnamon to you? That’s so _traditional_ , Erik!”

“Now that, I’m going to spank you for,” Erik threatened, and Charles squirmed excitedly against him. “I can’t believe you called me traditional.”

“You’re just very Alpha, Erik!” Charles tried to tell him. “Except not a Neanderthal about Omega rights. But very controlling and domineering of _me_!”

“No one could possibly control or dominate _you_ ,” Erik countered, kissing his temple. And he was very glad about that—an Omega who cringed every time Erik raised his voice, that he couldn’t touch when he wanted, that he had to walk on eggshells around to avoid upsetting? That would be exhausting.

Correction: _had_ been exhausting.

“I was so dumb when I couldn’t remember anything,” Charles criticized, scratching at Erik’s ribs. “Cooking for you? Trying to agree with everything you said? Letting you push me around?”

“You weren’t dumb, you were being cautious,” Erik corrected, holding him tightly. “I’m glad to know your survival instincts are intact, even if your rational mind ruins them.”

Charles laughed at this. He was rarely cautious where Alphas were concerned, even with strangers, when he ought to be. “So _anyway_ …” he began leadingly, “are we going to have sex now?”

“Yes,” Erik agreed decisively, starting to stand.

“Can’t we do it right here?” Charles asked breathlessly, but Erik scooped him up and headed for the bed.

“No, I’m not going to knot you on the floor in the hallway,” Erik denied, even though Charles moaned enthusiastically at the idea. “Right now, anyway.”

He dumped the teen on the bed and Charles popped back up to kiss him. “Can you shave? You’re so scratchy!”

“If you want to wait that long.” Charles did not. Erik climbed onto the bed, tipping Charles over so he could stretch out on top of him, resting most of his weight on his arms. “You want to do something else first?” he checked, nibbling his way down Charles’s neck, newly appreciative of his ability to do so. “If you’re sore.”

Charles’s thighs squirmed on either side of Erik’s hips as he tried to drag his pajama bottoms off with his toes. “No! I want your knot. Please, Erik!”

That was what every Alpha wanted to hear. But Erik had recently learned to distrust those statements and he maneuvered Charles’s shirt off, inspecting his Omega carefully for damage as Charles huffed and wriggled impatiently. “I can do a dozen different things to make you feel good, without knotting,” Erik promised, murmuring in Charles’s ear.

He could feel the interest this generated in the teen. “A dozen? Fundamentally different? I’m going to keep track,” Charles threatened. “But I want your knot first. Please? It’s been twenty-four hours!”

Well, not really, but Erik saw his point. “Okay,” he agreed, “but then we’re taking a bath.”

“Deal,” Charles confirmed, yanking Erik down to kiss him.

**

They were in the kitchen, trying to recreate the egg-cooking scene for a photo op, but Charles couldn’t seem to mimic the proper expression of earnest concentration Erik remembered him having before. Instead he kept smiling and laughing and making a mess, which Erik found it hard to object to.

“Just push them back and forth, try to keep them in the pan,” Erik advised, wondering how anyone could be so inept in the kitchen. He was _telling_ Charles exactly what to do.

“Eggs are disgusting,” Charles complained. “They’re so eggy! Who’s going to eat this? I won’t. We’re just being wasteful, Erik!”

Like Charles cared about _that_. “ _I’ll_ eat them,” Erik promised, “if you can manage not to ruin them. I’m starving.” He was concerned about Charles’s lack of appetite, but the Omega had gotten down some Gatorade at least, and didn’t seem to be running out of energy.

“Are they done? How do I know when they’re done? Should they be brown?”

Erik forced himself to stay seated on the other side of the counter. “They shouldn’t be runny anymore,” he tried to describe. “Just slightly wet.”

“Why am I even doing this?” Charles wondered. For a second he frowned and Erik snapped a picture with his phone, figuring that might be the closest he got to serious. “This is boring. I’m serving it now.” Charles dumped the eggs messily onto a plate.

“Turn off the burner,” Erik reminded him. “Where’s my toast?”

Charles laughed. “Where’s my toast, little Omega?” he mocked. “What is this, the ‘50’s?”

“If _you_ wanted to eat, I would fix something for _you_ ,” Erik pointed out, accepting the eggs.

“Oh, I know you would,” Charles agreed, as if this was a deficiency. He held the bread aloft like it was a foreign object. “Which end goes into the toaster?” he wondered. “Haven’t you had this same meal five times already?”

“I’m trying to use up the eggs,” Erik replied. “Just drop the bread in like that, don’t squash it. Honestly, Charles, I’m sure you’ve made _toast_ before.”

“No, usually it just arrives on a plate with a little pat of butter on top, and jam in a little cup on the side,” Charles claimed. “Here.” He put the stick of butter from the fridge and a jar of jam on the counter in front of Erik.

“Put them on my toast for me,” Erik suggested. “Come on, you can manage. It’ll taste better if you do it.” He flashed Charles a charming smile and watched him melt a little.

“Alright,” Charles decided. “It’ll be messy, though.”

“The best things are.”

Charles hooted with laughter at that, then set about trying to wrestle the jam jar open. In defeat he handed it to Erik, who opened it with one twist. Charles’s eyes slid to his biceps as he did so, watching them flex.

“My toast, little Omega?” Erik prompted with some amusement. “I need fuel if I’m to keep servicing you.”

“Well when you put it that way…” Charles hurried back to the pantry. “How about soup?” he proposed, holding up a can. “That’s easy, you just microwave it, don’t you?”

“Not the actual _can_ ,” Erik warned. “Put it in a bowl first.” His household staff would not be as extensive as what Charles had grown up with; he just hoped they could keep up with the teen and all the trouble he was likely to cause if left unsupervised.

“How do I get it open?” Charles asked in confusion, tipping the can around.

“Bring it here,” Erik told him. “And a can opener.”

“A what?” The toast popped and Charles went to attend it. “Take another picture and send it to Mutti,” he demanded, “so she can see I’m taking good care of you! I’m nurturing you with this toast.”

Erik snapped the photo indulgently. “She’ll be very impressed.”

“Did you call her?” Charles wanted to know, bringing over the plate of toast. The bread looked like it had gotten into a fistfight with the butter and jam and come out the worse for it. “Did you tell her what happened to me? That I was in the hospital, and lost my memory?” The amnesia episode was fascinating to Charles, but Erik preferred not to think about it, though he often found he couldn’t help it—every time Charles woke up Erik worried he’d forgotten everything again.

“Yes, I called her while you were asleep,” Erik informed him. Actually he’d called her several times lately.

“What did she say?” Charles asked. He was digging in the drawers for something that could be this mysterious ‘can opener.’

“Oh, she was full of sympathy. For _you_ ,” Erik reported in a put-upon tone. “Poor little Charles, poor Gummibarchen!” Erik’s imitation of his mother’s accent made Charles laugh. “He must have been _so_ scared, because I know you yelled at him, Erik!”

Charles laughed even harder. “I love your mother!”

“I know. That’s it right there.” Charles held up the can opener like it was a piece of alien technology. “Bring it here.”

Charles watched in fascination as Erik opened the can, probably drooling over his muscles rather than learning anything, though. “When—when are we going to see Mutti next?” he asked, distracted.

“Maybe we’ll go down for a weekend next month,” Erik planned. “Pour this in a bowl, cover it with a paper towel, microwave two minutes.”

Charles attempted to follow Erik’s directions. “Not ‘til next month?” he complained.

“I’m busy at work,” Erik shrugged. He would rather see his mother more often, too, but she knew what it was like running a company, and she’d chosen to move away from the city anyway. “You can go down whenever you want, I’ll have someone drive you. She’ll be happy to have you. Bring Raven if you want.” That would serve several purposes, not the least of which was getting Charles out from underfoot when Erik had a big presentation to work on. The apartment would not be big enough for the two of them if Charles was feeling mischievous.

“What was next?” Charles asked in confusion, staring at the bowl of cold soup in his hands like he couldn’t remember how it got there.

“Put it in the microwave,” Erik repeated. “Cover it with a paper towel. Two minutes. I know you’ve used my microwave before.” And left it a mess, as Charles rarely bothered with a cover.

“Can you see the soup through the door?” Charles wanted to know. “Take another picture. Here, I’ll do it.”

“You’re taking a selfie with microwave soup,” Erik pointed out, not considering this a notable achievement.

“Hey, this is _vegetable beef_ ,” Charles realized of the soup, sounding delighted. “I’m cooking _meat_ for you!” Then he snapped a photo of Erik’s sardonic expression.

“It’s already cooked,” Erik corrected, snatching his phone back. “Where’s _your_ phone? Do you even know?”

Charles gave it a moment of thought. “No, I have no idea,” he admitted blithely. “Call me, it’s probably upstairs somewhere.”

“We’ll do it later,” Erik demurred, crunching his toast. “My soup’s ready. Be careful, it’s hot. Use a dishtowel, put it on a plate.” Unconsciously holding his breath he watched Charles maneuver the bowl to a plate and bring the plate over to him. A fair amount of soup ended up on the plate, but none on Charles’s fingers, which was Erik’s preference.

“Do you need more food?” Charles inquired. He had an ulterior motive for asking now, when he realized how he would benefit from Erik being well-fed.

“I’ll let you know,” Erik assured him, not fooled for a moment by his altruism.

Charles leaned on the counter across from Erik, staring at him and rocking back and forth. After years of such treatment Erik was no longer unnerved by it, however, and due to Charles’s short attention span he knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Call me,” Charles repeated, starting to round the counter and leave the kitchen. “I’m going to find my phone.”

Erik swiveled his seat and caught him. “Do it later. Stay where I can see you.”

Predictably, this kicked off a whine, which Erik could tolerate as long as Charles climbed onto the seat next to him as indicated. “Erik! There’s not, like, tigers and bears roaming the house, about to get me,” he protested. “I’m not going to run away. I want to have more sex! It’s just boring watching you eat. Don’t you think people look weird when they eat? It’s a bit gross.”

“Usually they’re distracted by eating at the same time,” Erik pointed out mildly, spooning up his soup.

Charles huffed and swung aimlessly in his seat. “Can we go outside? We could build a snowman and have a snowball fight!” Erik just gave him a negative look and waited for his brain to move on. “Can someone really be scared out of heat?” he asked, not so randomly. “Did you really think it might’ve happened to me? Or were you just copping a feel?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Erik replied matter-of-factly. “I thought maybe it would help you remember, or feel more comfortable with me.”

“Ridiculous!” Charles judged scornfully. “Well, maybe it helped. I really like that sweatshirt, can I keep it? Only you have to keep wearing it too, so it smells like you.”

“Oranges and wood smoke?” Erik asked dryly.

Charles was not embarrassed by this. “Yes! That’s exactly what you smell like, I couldn’t ever describe it before. How are we even talking now?” he demanded suddenly. “Why aren’t we just constantly jumping each other like bunnies?”

“There is very little that makes you stop talking,” Erik observed, which Charles laughed at. Privately Erik suspected the suppressants that _had_ gotten into Charles’s system might be at fault, but he didn’t want to remind the teen of that.

“I don’t know how I was able to fool you at all, Erik,” Charles said, mock-reproachful now. “I was totally different when I couldn’t remember anything. _Quiet._ _Subdued._ You ought to have noticed something was wrong right away.”

Somehow Erik was not surprised to be blamed for this. “I _did_ think something was wrong,” he reminded Charles. “I thought you were sore or…” He knew he was going to be mocked, whatever word he chose. “…disillusioned.”

Charles twisted his face into an exaggerated expression of confusion, at least as much as he could without pain. “What?” he finally asked, and Erik rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t understand, Erik,” he insisted, and he seemed marginally serious, or was doing a d—n fine impression of it. “Well, sore, yes, but that wouldn’t stop me—“

“Obviously,” Erik agreed, finishing his soup.

“But why would I be disillusioned?” Charles wondered. “It was _so_ much better than doing things by myself! Why did we wait so long? We could’ve done it earlier,” he suggested blithely. “Sometimes having sex induces a first heat, you know.”

“I _do_ know that,” Erik assured him, “because you sent me several articles about it over the last year.” Charles grinned wickedly, and Erik let himself stare at the cherry red lips and vibrant blue eyes for a long moment, the pale freckles scattered around the bruises, which granted marred things a little.

“You felt guilty,” Charles recalled. “You shouldn’t have felt guilty, Erik,” he pressed, with a tinge of sincerity. His feet reached out to rub Erik’s shins. “If you ought to feel guilty about something, I’ll be sure to let you know. You ought to feel guilty that we haven’t had sex for _three hours_ ,” Charles added. “I’m very disillusioned by that, Erik.”

This was, oddly, Charles’s way of offering comfort in a form Erik could accept, and he smirked. “Only an hour and a half,” he corrected. He started to stand. “But I suppose we could—“

Charles popped up and threw his arms around Erik, dragging his head down to kiss him hungrily. Erik bent to it at first, then got his arms under Charles’s rear and lifted him to a proper height. Fearing for their balance he turned and set Charles on the counter, and the teen wound all his limbs around Erik.

“Can we do it on the counter?” Charles moaned, as Erik’s teeth scratched lightly down his neck.

“No,” Erik denied, despite Charles’s appealing squirming. “I don’t want to stand here waiting for the knot to go down.” Charles made a whining noise that almost made Erik change his mind. “How about the couch?” he offered hastily, picking Charles up again. “You can be on top, do some work for a change.”

Charles cackled in a way that made Erik’s knees weaken. “Good! I have some ideas…”

**

Charles peered in the mirror at the bruises on his face, which had turned sickly yellow and green now. “I look awful!” he complained dramatically.

Erik didn’t like to think about it. “You’ll heal. Get back in the tub.”

Charles turned back to where Erik was stretched out in the bath, head leaning back, arms draped over the rim—laid out like a feast, to Charles’s greedy eyes. _His_ feast.

When Erik got no response his eyes opened, intensely blue and slightly challenging. “You’re always ordering me around,” Charles protested, even as he dropped his towel and climbed back into the warm water. He had no idea if he meant that seriously or not.

Satisfied his Omega was within his grasp again, Erik closed his eyes. “Stop obeying, see what happens,” he suggested mildly.

“Probably nothing,” Charles guessed, splashing him a little from his side of the tub. “You wouldn’t do anything to me.”

Erik smirked indulgently, as if Charles was oh so wrong, and Charles’s breath hitched. “Settle down. You need to soak longer.” Heat was physically demanding on both of them, but Erik still feared Charles got the worst of it, despite the teen’s insistence otherwise.

Charles tried. He stretched his legs out on either side of Erik. He attempted to mimic Erik’s posture but found it not very comfortable. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He itched his ear. He poked Erik’s ribs with his toes.

In a flash Erik’s hands dove into the water and clamped down on Charles’s ankles, holding him in place. Charles froze, thoroughly startled and _very_ turned on by the predatory gleam in Erik’s eyes. “What did I tell you?” Erik asked, his voice low and silky.

Charles could not remember a single thing except how much he wanted to be on Erik’s lap right now, which was impossible due to the way Erik was restraining him. “I—um—sorry?” he stuttered, his throat dry.

Erik smirked again and loosened his grip, sliding his hands up and down Charles’s calves. “I told you to settle down,” he repeated, wondering how long it would stay in the Omega’s brain this time. “Drink some Gatorade.” He pulled his arms back out of the water and closed his eyes.

He heard Charles grumbling, and there was unnecessary sloshing and wet limbs knocking into him, but the Gatorade bottle was opened and its contents consumed. Charles was getting a little sugar, at least. He would not let Erik rest peacefully, though.

“Were you talking to Azazel today?” Charles asked idly. He could usually figure out who Erik was on the phone with, by how angry he got. Anger management issues, indeed.

“Yes,” Erik confirmed. “We’re suing the hospital.”

Charles sighed. “I don’t want to,” he told Erik. “It was all just a mix-up. They didn’t know we had a contract.”

He could see Erik was unmoved by this. “They did not respond in a timely fashion when I showed them proof,” he stated, with punitive simplicity. “And, they hit you.”

His long fingers were gripping the edges of the tub, whitening the knuckles, belying his calm tone, and Charles reached out to rub them. He had never seen Erik so upset as when he’d finally burst into the hospital room and seen the state of Charles’s face—Erik tended to yell freely, but when he went quiet, that’s when you really ought to worry.

Charles meant to ease himself comfortingly onto Erik’s lap and say something sweet about his concern; but being in a bathtub made elegance rather impossible, and Charles didn’t know the right thing to say anyway. So he ended up splashing Erik and the floor several times before he knelt back down over Erik’s thighs, and then all he could think to do was whine, “I don’t want to explain everything in court. It’s upsetting.” Embarrassing, frightening, infuriating—he didn’t want to think about that part any longer and leaned his head on Erik’s shoulder.

Erik’s arms draped loosely around him, offering safety and security. “It won’t come to that, Schatzi,” he predicted, lips brushing his cheek. “They’ll settle quickly.”

“Well what’s the point, then?” Charles huffed. “You don’t need the money.”

“That’s right, I have a country house, so I must be rich,” Erik teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“You called me a gold-digger!” Charles protested on cue.

“I was just teasing,” Erik assured him, which they both knew. “ _I’m_ the gold-digger.”

Charles snorted at this unfair characterization. When you got past a certain level of income, who had more was irrelevant, unless of course you were into things like _Forbes_ ratings, which was so déclassé.

Charles liked being in the warm water, snuggled up against Erik, his scent all around and sort of peaceful, for an Alpha anyway. But he couldn’t stay completely still, and idly he nuzzled at Erik’s neck and ran his hands over his ribs. This level of activity seemed acceptable to Erik, who made a pleased noise and relaxed more. Which just encouraged Charles to escalate, and then squirm around to make sure the other side of Erik’s neck got attention, too.

Then abruptly he sat up and examined his Alpha closely. “Why do you have _two_ bite marks?” he asked suspiciously.

Erik opened his eyes, and they were full of exasperation. That was so common it told Charles nothing, though. “That’s from the other Omega I’ve got hidden around here,” Erik replied sarcastically. “I’m keeping her in the basement.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Oh, the other one’s a _her_ , is she?” He did not find this terribly amusing, but Erik hadn’t meant it that way.

“Variety,” Erik tossed off, his hands settling on Charles’s hips to keep him in place. Maddeningly the Omega looked peeved. “Honestly, Charles, if I’ve got two bite marks, then _obviously_ you bit me twice,” he stated, not gently. “I can’t bite _myself_ on the neck.”

That was, of course, completely logical, and Charles relaxed slightly. “Well, I only remember one, is all,” he noted, giving the distinctive bruises another look. They didn’t seem too bad.

“Yes, the second was from when you went all lizard-brain on me,” Erik described. “You broke the skin, you little carnivore.” He gave Charles a playful shake.

“Oh, _that’s_ why I woke up with blood on my teeth,” Charles realized, without much concern. He went back to nuzzling, more actively.

“That didn’t worry you?” Erik checked, tipping his head to allow Charles better access.

“Oh, not really. I just thought I’d bit my tongue or something,” Charles assured him. “That happens sometimes, because apparently I even talk in my sleep—“

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Erik replied dryly. And Erik was a light sleeper. “Look, could you—“ He took Charles’s shoulders and held him off a bit. “You were being very sweet before,” he complimented, knowing this was not going to end well. “Can we go back to that for a while?”

Charles’s eyes flared in frustration. “My G-d, Erik, you’re twenty-three, not _eighty_ -three,” he blurted. “Are you really getting _tired_?” Right now this was the most horrible thing Charles could possibly imagine. “We’ve got _days_ left, Erik, what am I going to do if—“

Erik pulled him close and kissed him, long and slow and deep, resisting Charles’s efforts to speed anything up and letting him feel the clear evidence that Erik was anything but tired. Erik’s hand slid downwards, making Charles moan into his mouth—which turned into a sharp hiss as Erik’s fingers did a little experimental probing. Charles looked thoroughly betrayed when he pulled back.

“I am not tired,” Erik told him, for the record. “But _you_ are sore, and refuse to eat.” Charles rolled his eyes. “And we are not having sex in the water, anyway. It’s not good for you.” He’d read that somewhere—water being forced into places where water should not go, and all that.

“You’re always saying where we’re _not_ having sex,” Charles complained petulantly. “It’s like we’re not even married!”

This made Erik laugh, a real laugh, because he _had_ spent quite a bit of time recently fending Charles off, which was completely the opposite of how the stereotypes said it should go. And he didn’t have to do that anymore, because Charles was an adult now, and they were properly bonded—except he _did_ , because he didn’t want him to be injured, and Charles was prone to that anyway, what with being terribly careless and lacking common sense. In Erik’s considered opinion, anyway.

“Turn around,” he told Charles’s pouting face, even though he wouldn’t mind kissing those red lips longer. Charles could not be trusted to leave it at kissing, however, especially given that they were naked. He tried to help the teen resituate but it still seemed to involve a lot of sloshing and kicking, some resentfully on purpose.

“Lean back,” Erik encouraged Charles, letting him get comfortable against Erik’s chest. Erik put his arms around him and murmured in his ear, trying to surround him with calm, smoky oranges or whatever the h—l Charles thought he smelled like. “Calm down. Close your eyes. Just be sweet for a little while longer. And then I’ll show you another way to feel good, without knotting.” G-d bless the Internet and Erik’s natural creativity.

“You promised a dozen ways,” Charles reminded him, “and I’ve only seen four so far. Fundamentally different!” He was getting relaxed in this position, however, far more than he had been sitting alone at the opposite end of the bathtub—a whole bathtub away from Erik! His Alpha’s voice and scent were so soothing right now.

“Just be sweet,” Erik repeated persuasively.

“Sweeter than Heaven, hotter than H—l,” Charles recited with a smirk, rather randomly from Erik’s point of view. “That’s from a song,” he added, because Erik had no life outside of work and Charles.

“You haven’t proven the sweet part yet,” Erik reminded him pointedly, but this only led Charles to the smug conclusion that the hot part was a given. “Just relax, Schatzi. I promise I’ll give you what you need.”

Charles snuggled back against him. “I know you will, Erik,” he breathed. Suddenly he was rather sleepy, and this seemed like a safe place for a nap.

**

Charles ate an entire banana—dutifully fried by Erik—and a whole cup of tea with honey and milk. He chased it down with some Tums, but the fact that he ate at all pleased Erik so much, it was worth it. Charles decided to cash this goodwill in right away.

“Well, since you’re busy cleaning up,” he announced blithely, slipping off the stool in the kitchen, “I’ll just go make a phone call.” He tried to walk away casually.

“Charles. Who are you calling?”

Charles stuck his head back around the doorway. “Just my mother. Won’t take long.” He attempted to disappear again.

“Charles.” Charles stood in the living room and thought, for half a second, about ignoring Erik. But that would be rather foolish—even more foolish than normal for Charles—and he slowly returned to the kitchen, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pajama pants. Erik said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow at him from the sink.

“I just want to check in,” Charles protested. “It won’t take very long. I’ll probably just get her voicemail.”

“You know the rule,” Erik reminded him implacably. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Erik!” Charles whined. “She’s my mother!”

“Come here,” Erik commanded, making room at the sink, and Charles shuffled over, drawn to his Alpha even when they were in disagreement. Erik stood him in front of the sink, then reached around him to continue washing the dishes. Charles had never washed a dish in his life and he resolutely kept his hands in his pockets, unwilling to break that streak now. Erik managed to nudge and bump him far more than was really required, as if Charles could ever forget his presence looming all around him.

“She’s my mother,” Charles repeated quietly.

“I’m not saying you can’t call her,” Erik claimed innocently. “But you are not to have any contact with her without me being there. Call her if you want. Just use the speakerphone.”

It wasn’t that the act itself was so onerous, using the speakerphone. And his mother was in town so rarely, it was likely Erik would naturally be with him when they visited. But the fact that Erik had made it a _rule_ —that meant there was really something wrong. If it wasn’t a _rule_ , just a _preference_ , engineered but unspoken, they could keep pretending everything was really fine.

Charles sighed and leaned back against Erik, who kissed his temple. “How’s your stomach? Do you need another Tums?”

“No, I’m okay, thank you,” Charles assured him. Erik was always looking out for him, trying to keep him from getting hurt. Despite Charles’s tendency to go rushing off into hurt at the first opportunity, it seemed. “Okay, I’ll just use the speakerphone,” he agreed, trying to sound more upbeat. “Shall I bring it in here?”

“No, wait until I’m done with the dishes,” Erik requested. It seemed like a lot of dishes for as little as Charles had eaten—Charles, of course, would’ve just left them in a heap. He _had_ left them in a heap.

“Didn’t you buy a house with a dishwasher?” Charles complained, when Erik got a tiny cluster of soap bubbles on him.

“Yes, but it’s easier to do these few by hand,” Erik claimed.

That made no sense to Charles. “It’s _always_ easier to stuff them in the dishwasher,” he countered.

“I bet you’ve never even used a dishwasher before,” Erik predicted.

“Yes, I have,” Charles contradicted. He liked watching Erik’s hands push the rag across the plate, so confident and capable. Surely the dirt just ran away in fear. “Um… I opened it and took things out. Many times. I’ve put dirty dishes in yours. And then you came along and rearranged them,” he added mockingly. “They’re _dirty_ , Erik! Do you even have to organize _dirty_ things?”

“I’m going to teach you to load the dishwasher properly,” Erik planned. Frighteningly, he seemed excited by this prospect. “There will be color-coded diagrams and surprise drills.” Charles laughed, unsure if he was serious but also not really caring. “My staff are not magic elves who will sweep up every crumb you drop, you know. You can help out.”

“Your staff will rejoice in finally having something to do,” Charles shot back. “I expect they’re frightfully bored, looking after just _you_.”

Erik snorted behind him. “They do get rather excited when you visit,” he acknowledged dryly. Erik did not really think they were _bored_ with just him, but Charles certainly offered new challenges.

“S—t,” Charles muttered as he thought of something. “We have to move all my things.”

Erik was not looking forward to that, either. “Maybe we can do it gradually,” he suggested. “One load per weekend. Your room at our apartment”—and yes, he _did_ like saying ‘ _our_ apartment’ instead of ‘ _my_ apartment’—“is smaller than the Batcave you’ve been living in, remember.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “ _Hardly_ a Batcave—“

“A family of four could live comfortably in your closet, Charles, with enough room left over to host friends catching an early flight.” Erik had a whole list of these lines. “In fact, they could be living there right now, and you’ve just never crossed paths.”

“I’ll have to go through things,” Charles realized with horror. He was a bit of a packrat, rather easy when you had that much space to fill.

“Don’t bother, just scoop up the top inch,” Erik quipped. “That should represent the last couple of years.”

“I’ve outgrown some of those clothes,” Charles dismissed. “I think I’m going to get taller.” He stretched up experimentally on his toes, blocking Erik’s view of the sink.

“I think you’re a good height now,” Erik countered, pushing him back down with a wet hand. Charles squawked and ducked away, brushing the miniscule amount of water from his hair. Erik pulled the drain in the sink. “I can just about fit you in my pocket now,” he added.

“Erik, I’m about to call my mother, let’s not talk about me getting in your pants,” Charles reproved primly.

Erik snapped the dishtowel at him. “Go find your phone,” he ordered. “That will take twenty minutes at least.”

It was not quite twenty minutes, but long enough for Erik’s call to time out three times before Charles located the source of the ringing. Then he realized it needed charging and had to plug it in to a socket near the floor, and sit on the floor to operate it. Erik sat in the middle of the couch, projecting aggressive casualness.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he promised Charles, and the teen gave him a skeptical look as he thumbed through the contacts list for his mother’s mobile. Which listed people properly and not by rude nicknames, thank you very much, because Charles was more mature than that.

The phone began to ring, several times, and Charles started to think it would indeed go to voicemail and make their disagreement moot. Then he heard the crackle of music and voices on the other end, as if someone had picked up. “Hello?” Charles prompted after a moment. “Mum? Hello?”

“ _Oh, hello, darling!_ ” his mother finally answered.

“Are you at a party?” Charles inquired. It sounded like she was shouting over the background noise.

“ _Yes, it’s lovely!_ ” his mother responded happily. “ _We’re out on Stephen’s yacht, and the Brunescos just arrived with some kind of band! The DJ threw rather a fit, but Stephen got him sorted._ ”

“That’s great, Mum,” Charles enthused. He _thought_ Stephen was her current boyfriend, but had no idea who the Brunescos were. Lovers of live music, apparently. “You sound like you’re having a good time.” People you cared about _ought_ to have a good time, oughtn’t they?

“ _The best, darling!_ ” she assured him. “ _Is everything alright there?_ ” she went on, and Charles lit up at her concern. “ _I saw Raven had left some messages_ …” Which Sharon hadn’t bothered to listen to. Charles tried not to let that dim his mood.

“I went into heat, Mum,” he explained to her. “I had to—“

“ _Oh, no, I’ll just be a moment_ ,” his mother said, presumably to someone on her end.

“Mum?” Charles prompted.

“ _Heat, finally!_ ” Sharon repeated brightly. “ _How wonderful. And to have someone there to take care of everything for you!_ ”

“Yes, Erik’s been lovely,” Charles assured her. He did not dare look at his Alpha, not wanting to see his no-doubt contemptuous expression. “But I had to—“

“ _Oh, I’ve got to go, darling_ ,” his mother interrupted. “ _The band has just started the cha-cha, and Stephen’s such a wonderful dancer!_ ”

“Mum, can we talk for a little—“

“ _I’ll send you something nice_ ,” she promised. “ _They have beautiful scarves here, hand-painted by nuns or something_.”

“Okay,” Charles agreed helplessly. “But I need to tell—“

“ _Good-bye, darling! Congrats!_ ” The noise ceased, and Charles was left staring at his phone.

After a long moment he reached out and cleared the screen. Then he got up and went to Erik’s lap, curling up in his arms even as he hated that he was right. Erik embraced him freely, lips brushing his head. “Do I really become obnoxious and attention-seeking?” Charles asked softly. He remembered Erik’s words on that subject perfectly well.

“You did,” Erik confirmed with his usual brutal honesty, “but you don’t have to anymore. You belong to me now.”

Charles nodded against his chest. There was no point in talking about what he wanted from his mother; she was incapable of giving it, and had been for years. Charles shoved those thoughts aside, like he did with everything he’d outgrown, and focused on the present.

“So, what should I do to get your attention now?” he asked Erik flirtatiously, biting his lower lip in the way he knew drove his Alpha crazy.

Erik tipped them back on the couch, his gaze flickering between Charles’s eyes and mouth. “Just ask, Schatzi,” he suggested, and leaned in to kiss him.

**

“Well, I’m just worried,” Erik said into the phone, probably repeating himself. He replaced a pillow on the couch from where it had fallen to the floor, and disposed of a tissue found beneath it. “It’s not like he had a lot of weight to lose.”

“ _Just make sure he drinks water_ ,” his mother advised. “ _He’ll eat when he’s hungry. If that isn’t until after heat is over, that’s fine_.” Erik sighed, knowing this made sense but not liking it. “ _Does he not have energy?_ ” Edie asked.

As if. “It’s Charles,” Erik reminded her.

On cue he heard footsteps thumping through the house. “Is that Mutti? I want to talk to Mutti!”

“He has more energy than a rabid squirrel,” Erik continued dryly. Charles raced for him but his sock feet skidded on the hardwood floor; Erik grabbed him _and_ avoided his flailing limbs without interrupting his conversation. “Here he is, maybe you can talk some sense into him,” he told his mother. He gave Charles the phone and placed him safely on the couch.

“Hello, Mutti! How are you? Do you still have a cold? Did Erik tell you what happened to me? It was so scary!”

Erik left him burbling to his mother in a mixture of English and German and went to the kitchen, looking for something he could feed to Charles. He made a mental note to stock up on protein shakes for the next heat—and cookies, pie, h—l, anything he could get his Omega to eat. They’d been in a time crunch this time so the selection was rather limited. After this, though, Charles’s heats would hopefully be regular and predictable.

Milk, maybe. Erik filled a glass with it and generously added in some chocolate syrup. He tasted the concoction and grimaced at the sweetness, but whatever, as long as Charles drank it. Erik added a straw and walked it back to the living room.

Then he set the drink safely aside and took Charles’s shoulder and leg to sit him back upright on the couch from where he’d laid down. “He’s manhandling me again, Mutti,” Charles noted, then laughed at her response. Erik held the drink in front of him and Charles wrinkled his nose as he took it. “He’s making me eat again. I don’t want to eat, Mutti! Oh, it’s milk. Chocolate milk! Erik made me chocolate milk. He’s giving me a look now, you know the one.” Charles listened to Edie’s reply and absently slurped the milk, which Erik counted as a win.

Part of him wanted to go clean the bedroom while his Omega was safely occupied, but another part did not want to be that far away. Both parts realized Charles could not navigate the stairs while talking on the phone and drinking milk, so Erik decided to just sit and wait.

“I know!” Charles was saying to Edie. “I remembered you, though. I remembered you singing to me and I asked Erik if I was German!” He did not mention thinking _she_ was his mother; the message was sweet enough as it was, and he didn’t want to be reminded of his own mother’s deficiencies.

“And you know all the rude nicknames he has on his phone? Imagine how shocked I was to see that, a scared little Omega.” Erik rolled his eyes. “He _still_ has me as SLS, Mutti,” Charles tattled. “That’s not very nice. Make him change it. To Snookie-Wookie or something.” At this Erik made a face, which did not go away when Charles laughed evilly at his mother’s counter-suggestion. “Yes, I like that one better. Oh, and we called Raven and she thought I was pranking her! As if I would ever do that. And I was so polite to her! I think that’s what convinced her. She tried to tell me I owed her money! Wasn’t that mean?”

The straw gurgled as Charles reached the bottom of the glass and Erik took it away, wondering if he could push any more on him. Probably not, a whole glass of milk was victory enough.

When Erik returned from the kitchen—which took only a moment, he merely rinsed the glass for the time being—Charles had turned completely upside-down on the couch, his head hanging off the edge of the cushion in a way that didn’t look at all comfortable. Erik righted him, then pulled him to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the stairs.

“He’s ordering me around again, Mutti,” Charles narrated. “Have you noticed how he does that? Well, I suppose. We’re going upstairs apparently. He probably wants to clean again, you know how obsessive he is about that. The pillow is probably crooked or something. Oh! Did you see the pictures of me making food for Erik?” Charles started to turn the wrong way at the top of the stairs and Erik redirected him. “I made him eggs! And toast and soup. I’m such a good Omega. So domestic!”

Erik sat Charles down on the couch in the bedroom, hoping he would stay there, but this was futile. Erik started to change the sheets, and Charles flopped down in the middle of the bed and had to be bodily moved (twice). Then he tried to pull the stunt again as Erik was remaking the bed and was given a _look_ , which was immediately relayed to Edie, who was apparently telling Charles about her latest book club selection. For all his brattiness Charles was at least a polite listener, which was more than Erik could say about himself most days.

The bed straightened, Erik tackled the rest of the room, which contained clothes and shoes (mostly Charles’s) scattered across every surface. The shoes were especially ridiculous, Erik thought, putting them back by the chair, because they hadn’t even _worn_ shoes since they got here. The clothes he divided into clean and dirty—he had taken all their clothes from the suitcases and put them away in the closet and dresser drawers, as normal people did, but _somehow_ Charles’s had escaped these confines, even the things he hadn’t worn yet.

Well, really there was no mystery; Erik had witnessed Charles’s method of choosing what to wear before, which involved tossing the unchosen items over his shoulder to the floor. So he could see them better later, he claimed. Because drawers were “hard to see into” in Charles’s little world.

The dirty ones Erik put into the hamper in the bathroom. It was starting to get full, he really ought to do laundry soon—An idea came to him in a flash and he stalked back into the bedroom, to find that Charles had knocked all the pillows off the bed and wrapped the comforter around himself. Erik caught the thread of the current conversation—something about apple strudel—then neatly plucked the phone out of the teen’s hand.

“Excuse me, Mutti,” Erik interrupted, as Charles squawked and jumped on him. “We have to be going now. Can I call you later?”

“Mutti, he just _grabbed_ the phone from me—“

“Okay. Love you—“

“Bye, Mutti!” shouted Charles. “I love you!”

Erik hung up and put his phone on the coffee table, Charles still clinging to his shoulders. “She loves you, too,” he reported. “How do you feel?”

Charles sensed there was significance to this question. “Fine. I’m not sore at all, you just gave me some Tylenol. Are we going to—“

Erik made sure Charles landed safely, then picked up the clothes hamper. “We are going to do laundry,” he announced, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Charles caught his meaning and grinned widely. “I _love_ doing laundry,” he claimed. “I’m so domestic now. Shall I separate the colors for you?”

“No, I think _I’ll_ do that,” Erik decided, prudently. “But I’ll find something else helpful for you to do.”

“I do love to be helpful, Erik,” Charles insisted eagerly, following him from the room. He hoped they were going to recreate the washing machine incident faithfully, only without the stopping, of course.

**

Charles checked the time, then gave his sister a call. He was not surprised when she picked up, even though it was the middle of the school day. “Are you skipping again?” he asked, for once truly disapproving. Of course Charles was fond of school, and good at it, and Raven was neither.

“ _I’m on an educational release_ ,” Raven responded, “ _because I went to the city to see_ La Bohème _on Broadway. And I’m going to write a paper about it_.”

“You’re in the city right now?” Charles was not worried about his sister, even if she was only fifteen—she was an Alpha, and also had way more street savvy than he did. New York had better watch out.

“ _Yes, I had lunch at Delmonico’s and now I’m browsing at Bergdorf’s_.”

Charles frowned. “When’s the show?”

Raven’s voice took on a wry tone. “ _I’ve seen it before_ ,” she pointed out. “ _I’ll brush up on YouTube when I get home_.” Charles shook his head, smirking. “ _Why are you calling?_ ” Raven asked. “ _You have your memory back, right?_ ”

“Yes, I thought Erik called you—“ He hoped she hadn’t been worried this whole time.

“ _He did, days ago_ ,” Raven assured him.

“Has it been days?” Charles asked vaguely. “Everything’s a bit blurry now. What day is it?”

“ _Thursday. Where’s Erik? Did you wear him out?_ ”

Charles snorted. “Hardly. He’s cleaning again. He’s really obsessive.” He did not add that Erik was cleaning the washing machine, or _what_ he was cleaning off it. “I’m watching this show about people who live with pet snakes, free-range in their house—“

“ _Why are you watching TV during heat?_ ” Raven demanded. “ _Why is Erik cleaning? Shouldn’t you two be constantly getting it on?_ ”

Charles hoped his sister wasn’t in a public place as she squawked this, but she probably was. “Yeah, I thought it would be like that too,” he admitted, “but apparently romance novels are not an accurate source of information on this topic.” Who would’ve thought?

“ _Well that’s a bummer_ ,” Raven commented. She didn’t know any better than Charles had, of course. “ _I’m sending you some pictures, tell me which dress you like better_.”

“It’s alright, actually, it’s _mostly_ sex,” Charles assured her, “but without the desperate frenzy and lack of showering for days. Erik’s very clean. Well, he thinks it might have something to do with the suppressants I was given at first,” he added lightly, “so it might be different in the future.”

Charles’s phone beeped and he flipped through the pictures Raven had sent. “The gold dress looks really fantastic, but also like you’re a high-class escort,” he opined. Raven made an indignant noise. “So if _Pretty Woman_ isn’t the look you’re going for, I’d get the purple one.”

Clearly Raven disagreed. “ _Did it hurt? Are you sore?_ ” she asked intrusively.

Charles grimaced. “Yes,” he admitted with a sigh. “Erik’s had to be rather creative—Wait,” he remembered suddenly. “I’m not supposed to tell you about our sex life.”

“ _Why not?_ ” Raven asked with disappointment. “ _I thought I’d finally get some juicy gossip!_ ”

“I suppose that’s why,” Charles pointed out, rolling his eyes. “You know how Erik is about his _privacy_.” Charles did not fully understand it either. “But anyway, if I tell you, then there won’t _be_ a sex life.”

“ _Like he could resist you_ ,” Raven scoffed. “ _Anyway, how would he know?_ ”

Charles’s phone beeped again with new photos. “Oh, he’d know,” he promised her. “I think he can literally read my mind. It’s freaky. What do you think he smells like?”

“ _Erik?_ ” Raven had clearly never thought about this before, and wasn’t eager to start. “ _I don’t know. Did you look at my pictures?_ ”

“The blue dress looks dorky,” Charles judged, “so I presume that means it’s trendy. The red one looks like something from the original _90210_ reruns, so I presume the same. Did you see _my_ pictures?” he asked eagerly.

“ _Yeah, speaking of dorky_ ,” Raven shot back, but fondly. “ _Microwave soup, Charles. You didn’t scale Mount Everest_.”

“Hey, that soup had _meat_ in it,” Charles informed her. “I cooked _meat_ for Erik. Well, I guess it was already cooked. But I heated it up!”

“ _Brilliant. So, the purple dress?_ ”

“Get the gold dress,” he encouraged her, feeling rather sentimental all of a sudden. Must be hormones. “You look so nice in it. Just wear flats and keep your hair down.”

“ _So,_ not _my thigh-high boots and torn fishnets?_ ” Raven checked, and Charles grinned.

“You should get the purple one, too,” he added. He was terrible to shop with if you were trying to be restrained at all, which Raven usually wasn’t.

“ _I think I will_ ,” she decided. “ _Do you feel okay, though? You sound tired_.”

This made Charles yawn. “Yes, it’s probably time for a nap,” he agreed. “I just wanted to talk to you, because I suddenly realized I wouldn’t be living with you anymore.”

“ _Oh_.” Of course, intellectually they _knew_ Charles would move in with Erik in the city, but the day had been in the future for so long, neither had considered what it really meant. “ _I hadn’t thought about it that way before_.”

“I know! It made me really sad.” Charles tried to say this in a light-hearted way. “But you’ll come to visit a lot, won’t you? Or I’ll come visit you. I have to clean out my room,” he added with distaste.

“ _Oh, you should leave it preserved the way it is_ ,” Raven countered. “ _As a gift to future archaeologists, who’ll wonder what massive civilization flourished there_.”

“Ha ha,” responded Charles sarcastically. He assumed she’d gotten that line from Erik. “Will you be alright there, by yourself?” he asked her, slightly worried.

“ _I’m hardly alone, the place is crawling with staff_ —“ That wasn’t what Charles meant, and she knew it. Raven would be _lonely_ at the house, he feared. “ _I’ll be alright,_ ” she promised. “ _I’ve got all my friends. And I expect I’ll inherit all your friends as well, since you’re going to that fancy new school_ ,” she added teasingly. “ _Maybe I’ll pick up my own Omega, and we can double-date!_ ”

“Oh, that’d be awesome!” Charles cackled. “Erik would hate it!”

Raven was snickering at the image as well. “ _I know! We should totally do it, I would_ pay _someone to play my Omega for a double-date with Erik_.”

“We are definitely going to do that,” Charles promised fondly. “After I get settled. I hope my new school isn’t too dull.” Charles enjoyed challenging classes, and having friends across the whole spectrum of genders; he was a little worried a school for _only_ bonded Omegas might be limiting.

“ _You visited it, didn’t you?_ ” Raven recalled vaguely, and Charles scoffed.

“Two years ago, when we thought this was going to happen any day.” He could not help being slightly bitter about this, although it would have meant leaving Raven alone even younger. Well, she probably could’ve come to live with him and Erik, back then; Charles knew better than to suggest it now, she was too used to her freedom. “You know, I was _so awful_ when I couldn’t remember anything,” he confessed to her in a low voice, making sure Erik wasn’t around.

“ _It sounded really scary_ ,” she agreed. “ _I couldn’t believe it really happened, it was like from a soap opera. Erik was totally freaked_.”

“I think he was,” Charles confirmed. “Looking back I can see it. But at the time I was really scared of him! Because he yells and says rude things, you know.”

“ _I cannot imagine_ ,” Raven responded dryly. Erik had always been her big brother, for all intents and purposes, so she was used to his behavior, but could see how it might not look good to a ‘stranger.’ “ _I almost wish I had been there, to help_ —“

“I’m sure I would’ve been scared of you, too,” Charles suggested, “because you guys would start fighting. Which you did anyway, on the phone,” he reminded her pointedly.

“ _I thought he should take you back to the hospital_ ,” Raven admitted, which just gave Charles another flashback.

“No way. I’m glad he didn’t,” he told her firmly. “The food pictures we took were later, after I remembered things again. But before that, I was _actually_ cooking for him, because I thought that’s what I ought to do, you know, as an Omega. I even”—alright, this part was funny—“I called him ‘traditional.’”

Disappointingly, Raven didn’t seem to get the amusement. “ _So?_ ”

“Erik’s not traditional at all,” Charles was forced to explain, with some indignation. “He’s letting me keep going with school and uni. I’m not getting pregnant right now. He employs Omegas and has a generous childcare leave policy.”

“ _That’s pretty much what a normal person does these days_ ,” Raven opined. “ _It’s not especially progressive. The school he’s ‘letting’ you go to is only for bonded Omegas, and he goes totally apes—t whenever another Alpha even looks at you_ ,” she claimed. “ _That’s pretty traditional_.”

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Charles judged. He supposed as an Alpha she had a different perspective on these things, though he was glad she still held enlightened views. “Well, _you_ can try calling him traditional, and then you two can arm-wrestle over it, or whatever you Alphas do.”

“ _A ritual head-butt is the proper way to settle disputes_ ,” Raven claimed, which made Charles laugh.

“Erik will have the advantage then, with his perfect hair,” he cracked, and Raven cackled as well.

“ _But getting back to serious matters_ ,” she claimed after she had calmed down. “ _You really_ cooked _for him? Because you thought you had to? How did you even know what to do?_ ”

“Erik guided me through it, you know how bossy he is,” Charles explained.

Raven coughed, “ _Traditional!_ ” under her breath, which Charles ignored with great maturity.

“I made eggs!” Charles went on proudly. “And he ate them. Oh, and then I totally tried to jump him,” he added with glee. “I was done being scared by then.”

“ _Apparently_ ,” Raven commented dryly. “ _So it was like you got_ two _wedding nights_ ,” she suggested, still hinting for gossip, “ _because you didn’t remember the first one_.”

Charles frowned in confusion, then realized that Raven was making an incorrect assumption. “No, Erik wouldn’t have sex with me.”

“ _What?_ ” Charles imagined Raven skidding to a stop in the middle of Bergdorf’s, such was her shock.

“No, he flat-out refused,” Charles related. He found it terribly sweet and romantic, looking back. “Not until I had my memory back. Well, he said I was mentally incompetent,” he added, rolling his eyes. That part was not so romantic. Raven laughed heartily. “But Erik was so noble,” he sighed dreamily. “When I woke up next he was sleeping in the hall and he’d locked the bedroom door from the inside.”

“ _Whoa. I can’t believe Erik showed that kind of restraint! Well, I can_ ,” Raven reversed, “ _because he always has, but now he didn’t_ have _to_.”

“I know!” agreed Charles with delight. “He was trying to be nice to me. In an Erik sort of way. He says I smell like apple strudel,” he shared giddily.

Raven made a gagging noise. “ _TMI!_ ” she declared.

“That’s hardly TMI,” Charles argued indignantly. “You’re the one who wanted details!”

“ _Not sappy, dumb stuff_ ,” Raven specified.

“That’s so _Alpha_ , Raven,” Charles judged harshly, and she scoffed. “Alright, I keep biting him, apparently. Is that what you’re looking for?”

It must have been, because Raven laughed wickedly. “ _I’m not surprised, you always chewed on all your toys_ ,” she reminded him.

“I was exploring my world,” Charles claimed. Though now he was distracted by thoughts of exploring something else, so he refocused purposefully on Raven. “Did you get those dresses? What time will you be home?”

“ _Carruthers is picking me up at five_ ,” Raven answered with a disappointed sigh. “ _I wanted to stay and have dinner in the city, but—school night_.”

“Yeah. Are you doing alright?” Charles inquired politely, not wanting to make the conversation all about him.

Raven saw right through this, however, and laughed mercilessly at him. “ _We can say good-bye and you can go shag Erik some more_ ,” she allowed teasingly. “ _That’s what you’re there for_.”

“Good point. Love you. Good-bye,” Charles told her, and hung up. Then he called Erik’s cell phone, hoping he had it with him.

He did. “ _What do you need, Charles?_ ” Erik asked. Not in a sexy way, more slightly aggravated, but Charles was prepared to fix that.

“I need _you_ , Erik!” he stated. “I love you and I miss you!”

“ _I’m just downstairs_.”

Charles did not see how that was relevant. “I was just telling Raven how hot you are when you’re trying to be noble, and how much I like chewing on you—“

Erik appeared in the doorway, having made a rapid ascent as soon as Charles called. “I told you not to talk about our sex life,” he warned, ending the call.

Charles pulled him down into his nest of blankets on the couch. “That was hardly intimate,” he dismissed, nuzzling at Erik’s neck and jaw.

“Anyway, I thought you were going to take a nap,” Erik said, _nobly_ trying to remain focused as Charles slipped his hands under his shirt.

“I don’t want a nap, I want _you_ ,” Charles spelled out. “Shall I send you an evite, Erik? Perhaps invite you to join a Facebook group?”

Erik laughed. “No, please don’t.” He captured Charles’s lips with his own, working his Omega’s own shirt off in between kisses. “You want to do it right here?”

Charles tried to think, which was difficult. “Is there a room we haven’t been in yet?” he asked. Might as well christen the entire house.

“Um, hmm.” Charles nipped at Erik’s earlobe, which gave him a little jolt of clarity. “First floor powder room,” he suggested, slightly breathless.

“Sounds good to me,” Charles declared, scrambling up without detaching himself from Erik. “I’ve always thought powder rooms were so sexy, haven’t you?”

Erik had to direct Charles to the room. “Depends on what you do when we get in there,” he decided challengingly.

The speculative look Charles gave him over his shoulder made his heart stop. “I expect I’ll come up with something,” he promised.

**

Erik thought things were starting to wind down. The timing was right, and Charles was sleeping more, though _not_ eating yet. And his apple cinnamon scent was less intense, though still stronger than Erik hoped it would be normally, because it still made him want to stay with Charles to the exclusion of everything else in the world. And that was hardly conducive to getting things done, like his job.

Charles was curled up next to him in bed, asleep, and Erik idly brushed his hair with his fingertips, just watching him. People were usually said to look younger when they slept, but Charles looked older, more mature. Maybe it was the lack of a mad smirk? His sleeping face looked a bit serious, Erik thought, like he was thinking deep thoughts in his dreams. Erik kind of liked it, though he liked the mad smirk, too.

Trying not to move too much Erik started to slip from the bed, but claws sank into the flesh of his upper arm with a suddenness that took him by surprise. “J---s, Charles,” he snapped, all tender thoughts fleeing.

Charles’s sky blue eyes stared back at him blankly for half a second, and Erik froze, fearful he had turned into someone else again. “Where are you going?” Charles asked with deceptive mildness.

“To the bathroom,” Erik told him. “Do you remember me?”

Gratifyingly Charles rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_ , Erik,” he replied, as if this was a stupid thing to worry about.

“Then get your talons out of my arm,” Erik prompted.

Charles looked at his hand as if just now noticing what it had done. “Oh.” With some effort he relaxed his fingers; the nails hurt at least as much coming out as they had going in. “Sorry.”

Perhaps foolishly, Erik did not take his opportunity to leave. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked Charles. His scent was off now, but Erik didn’t know if that was significant or just the end of heat. But also, Charles hadn’t given him one mad smirk since he’d opened his eyes. “What’s wrong? I know something is.”

“I don’t really want you to go.” Charles said this in a disturbingly small voice, eyes downcast, fingers toying with Erik’s on the mattress.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“I know.”

“Kind of necessary.”

“Yes.” Charles forced himself to roll over, putting his back to Erik. “You should go.”

Shaking his head Erik stood and padded to the bathroom. He shut the door only partway and did what he had to do as quickly as possible; he felt the same way he’d felt when Charles couldn’t remember anything and had panicked when Erik left him in the hall. Erik did not believe bonded people could feel each other’s emotions; that was romance novel nonsense (or so he assumed, he didn’t read romance novels). But he could be reacting to Charles’s scent changing, or feeling anxiety himself because his Omega clearly wasn’t well. Erik washed his hands quickly and left the bathroom.

Charles had curled up in a ball under the blankets—Erik could see him quivering in a lump, and he immediately set about uncovering him so he wouldn’t suffocate. “Erik!” Charles exclaimed, latching onto him as though he’d been gone for weeks.

“Okay, Schatzi, I’m here,” Erik told him, tucking the blankets back around them and pulling Charles into his arms. He tried to sound soothing but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

Charles didn’t seem to care as he clutched at Erik, nose buried against his neck. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t—you were so far away—“ He was sniffling, and Erik felt hot tears burn his skin.

Erik ran his hand through Charles’s hair, rubbed up and down his spine, all the motions that seemed to comfort his Omega, while he tried to figure out the right thing to say. Charles had always been expressive, emotional—it was refreshing, Erik had been raised to be stoic, to not let others know what he was thinking. With Charles he always knew. More or less.

“Why are you crying?” Erik finally asked him. He wasn’t irritated, just curious.

“I guess—I don’t know, I’m just messed up,” Charles concluded pathetically. “I thought it was just when I couldn’t remember, but I really didn’t want to be apart from you, Erik!” He sighed deeply, his breath ghosting over Erik’s chest. “It’s just stupid.”

Erik kissed the top of his head. “I don’t think it’s stupid,” he decided.

This meant a lot to Charles, because Erik didn’t say things like that just to be nice. “Really? I feel better now,” he added in a more normal tone.

“Good.” Erik was starting to feel a little strange himself, though, his arms tightening around Charles.

“Erik? Could you let me back up a bit, I’m too warm—“

“No, I don’t think so,” Erik decided slowly. He did toss aside a couple of blankets so Charles wouldn’t swelter, but he kept his Omega pressed close against him. “Stop squirming, I’m not letting you go.”

Charles huffed. “That’s very immature, Erik!” he judged. “I can’t help how I feel—“

“You think I can?” Despite his analytical mindset Erik was also used to trusting his instincts, especially when it came to people. “I feel very strongly that you should stay here right next to me. Where it’s safe,” he concluded.

Charles tried to settle down in Erik’s arms. “Is a bear going to get me?” he teased. “Is another Alpha going to come along and claim me? Oh, I guess so!” he surmised archly, as Erik twinged at this suggestion.

“Do I make fun of your Omega feelings?” Erik asked grumpily, tucking Charles’s head under his chin.

“Yes, I think you do, Erik!”

“Well, fine,” he snorted. “As long as you stay here. Unless you have to go to the bathroom,” he added. “I would let you up for that.” Instinct had to be forced to yield to practicality sometimes.

“No, I’m fine,” Charles assured him. He was quiet for a remarkably long time. “I suppose it’s about over then.”

“Yes,” Erik agreed. Their tones were both a little melancholy. “Back to the real world.”

“Living with you!” Charles was pleased about this. “And a new school.”

“I have to live with _you_ ,” Erik commented, with not enough enthusiasm, to judge from Charles’s laugh. Charles had stayed over at Erik’s apartment many times, on weekends and school holidays, so Erik felt he knew what to expect; but at the same time, he preferred things to be neat and orderly and _just so_ , and Charles was a little whirlwind of chaos. Still, the mere thought of _not_ being able to take his Omega home made Erik tighten his embrace.

“Erik!” Charles whined, and he tried to relax a little. “There’s no one else here, you know.”

“I’m not running away to Cuba when I go to the bathroom, you know,” Erik countered.

“But what if you left, and a bear got you?” Charles asked. He wasn’t serious, but he found the evolutionary biology fascinating. “And then there was no one to protect me and the pups!”

Despite Charles’s light tone Erik felt something constrict in his chest at the mention of pups. They had already talked about it and planned to wait a few years to have them—at least until Charles was done with high school and maybe even his bachelor’s degree. People were waiting longer these days—having children as a teenager had gone out with the previous generation, along with child bond contracts and first-heat marriages. For most people, anyway.

Maybe Erik _was_ traditional.

Charles scratched at his ribs and Erik realized he was probably giving off a broody vibe (in both senses). “You would go to Raven,” he finally said, should anything happen to him. “She would be your senior Alpha. Terrifying as that is to contemplate.”

“I would go live with Mutti,” Charles countered. “She does alright on her own.”

“That’s a good option, too,” Erik agreed. Of course his mother had money, and that always helped, Alpha, Omega, or Beta. “Emma and Azazel would help you—“

“Why are we talking about this?” Charles interrupted. “You’re not going to get eaten by a bear, Erik.” He did not like contemplating a future without Erik in it.

“No, I’m not,” Erik agreed. He felt fairly confident on that subject, as he made it a rule to stay away from bears, hungry or not. Of course, that wasn’t the point; both of their fathers had died prematurely of other causes, leaving behind their Omegas and children to get along on their own. “Go back to sleep,” he told Charles. “You should be resting now.”

“I’m not _actually_ pregnant, you know,” Charles pointed out snarkily.

“You’ll wish you were tomorrow,” Erik predicted dryly, “when you feel like c—p with nothing to show for it.”

“I have _you_ , Erik,” Charles corrected, with remarkable sincerity, and Erik smiled.

“Yes, you do, Schatzi,” he agreed. “You’ve always had me.”

**

Erik drifted awake and immediately wished he hadn’t. He felt too awful to return to sleep, though, and as he moved around he heard Charles moan. “Erik,” he said pitifully.

“Yes?”

“I don’t feel good!”

“I don’t, either,” Erik agreed. “Do you feel hungover?” That was the closest comparison he could think of.

“Yes,” Charles confirmed. “Hungover and hit by a bus, and very itchy, too!”

That seemed serious enough that Erik pried his eyes open. Charles’s injured face was actually much improved, but he did look pale and disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes. “Okay,” Erik sighed, forcing himself up. “You stay here and try to sleep. I’ll take a quick shower and—“

“No, I don’t want to stay in this bed, I don’t _like_ this bed!” Charles insisted nonsensically. He started flailing around, or trying to, but his limbs kept getting tangled in the sheets, which only made him more frantic. “It’s scratchy and it smells funny and I can’t—“

“Charles. Charles! Calm down—“ Erik attempted to contain him, but Charles slithered right out of his grasp and thunked to the floor. “Charles!” Erik threw himself out of bed, despite his own discomfort, and raced around to the other side.

“Ow,” groaned Charles feebly.

Erik knelt beside him, checking for injuries. “Did you hit your head?” That was all Charles needed, more brain trauma. “What did you land on?” He helped the teen sit up, noting the red impact marks on his hip and shoulder. So those were _more_ bruises for him.

Instead of climbing back up into bed as Erik wished, Charles pulled his knees up under his chin and started to shiver. “Erik, I’m so cold!” he complained. “And everything hurts and I’m so thirsty and I feel icky and everything smells weird! I might be hungry, too,” he added, his sideways glance at Erik suggesting slight self-awareness, “but I can’t really tell because I feel so awful! I might want a hamburger.”

Erik took a breath. “Okay, Schatzi, I can fix this,” he promised. He had, of course, done research on post-heat recovery. Naturally there was a lot of variation in reactions but some things were common. “Just wait right there.” He hurried back around to the other side of the bed, looking for his clothes.

“Where else am I going to go, Erik?” Charles demanded irritably. “I’m freezing cold and naked and it’s winter outside!”

“I know, I know,” Erik agreed tolerantly. He yanked on his discarded pajama bottoms—that was enough for now—and found some clean clothes for Charles in the bureau drawers. “Okay, let’s get you dressed—“

“I’m too cold to get dressed!”

“Stop being ridiculous, I’m trying to help you,” Erik advised, pushing the sweatshirt over his head. He left Charles to deal with the arms in his own sweet time and put socks on his bare feet, then got his sweatpants over his knees.

“I can _dress myself_ , Erik!” Charles crabbed.

“Then prove it,” Erik told him, pulling him to his feet. Charles defiantly drew the pants up and worked his arms into the sleeves.

“Come over here,” Erik directed, bringing him to the couch.

“I’m still cold!”

“I know.” There was a blanket draped over the back of the couch that they hadn’t ever used, and Erik bundled Charles up in it and laid him down on the cushions. “I know, I’m getting more,” he added as Charles opened his mouth. There were some extra blankets in the closet which were also untainted by heat-scents, which could be over-stimulating for the Omega at this point. Expertly Erik swaddled Charles in them until all that could be seen was his face, surrounded by a halo of fuzz.

Erik felt very satisfied as he looked at his handiwork. “There, how does that feel?”

Charles contrarily worked an arm free to itch his chin, then put it back. “I _might_ not freeze,” he allowed, still sounding peeved. Like a peevish little caterpillar in his cocoon, Erik thought fondly, then shook himself. He expected this fondness was hormonally driven, to keep Alphas from strangling their grumpy Omegas post-heat.

“I’m still thirsty and everything hurts and I feel gross and I might be hungry,” Charles was complaining. “Why aren’t you stuffing food into me? Why are you standing there staring at me with that dopey look? Are you laughing at me?” Incensed, Charles tried to roll over and put his back to Erik, but it was like watching a burrito trying to make a getaway, and then Erik _did_ start laughing.

“Stop, stop, you’ll hurt yourself,” he cautioned, preventing Charles from rolling off the couch. “Don’t get upset, Schatzi,” he added in a soothing tone, like people used with their dogs. “I’m going to make everything better for you.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you talking to me that way?” he demanded.

Erik knelt on the floor and rested his chin on Charles’s stomach, or rather, on the several inches of blanket above it. “I guess all _your_ hormones are going towards making pups,” he speculated dryly. They certainly weren’t making him enamored of Erik in turn.

Charles rolled his eyes. “I’m sick of hormones,” he declared. “Heat has lots of very unsexy aspects.”

He sounded personally cheated by this, and Erik chuckled. “Yes, this one was a bit rough,” he allowed. “But they’ll be better in the future. I’ll get you some Tylenol and Gatorade,” he added, jumping up.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t _nice_ ,” Charles called after him, perhaps feeling a bit guilty. Erik smirked as he fetched the pills from the bathroom and found a half-finished bottle of Gatorade that had rolled under the bed. “G-d, you look good,” Charles sighed, rather indignantly. “Why do you still look good?” Erik’s pajama bottoms were barely attached to his hips and he hadn’t bothered to put on any other clothes.

“Residual attraction,” Erik suggested, helping Charles drink some of the Gatorade. Then he popped the Tylenol into his mouth and watched him swallow.

“Are you going to give me the rest of that?” Charles prompted of the drink, and Erik carefully helped him drink the rest of the bottle. “I can feed myself, Erik!” Charles spluttered, when a little bit escaped his mouth.

“And yet, you aren’t,” Erik noted archly. Charles still had his arms tucked safely under the blankets. “Alright, to show respect for your autonomy as an adult”—Charles rolled his eyes at the patronizing words—“what would you like to do next? Shower? Food? Sleep?”

“Well, I—“ Charles yawned suddenly. Could Erik _get_ that lucky, that Charles would choose to stay corralled in his little bundle while Erik cleaned up? “It’s nice and warm in here, and I’m not so thirsty,” he conceded. He forced his eyes back open. “But I don’t want you to forget about me, Erik!”

At this Erik had to laugh. “I could never forget about you, Schatzi.”

“You might if I was too quiet,” Charles mumbled sleepily, and Erik frowned.

“Hey. Charles.” Erik shook the head of his cocoon a little, until Charles’s droopy eyelids lifted again. “I could never forget about you,” he repeated seriously, hoping it finally sank in. He had some ideas about where Charles had gotten this notion; the chief suspect was currently partying in St. Tropez. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes, Erik,” Charles agreed with a smile, and drifted off again.

“Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower,” Erik told him, but he saw that Charles was already out. It was very tempting to stay and stand guard over him, but Erik was also sick of hormones, and sternly reminded them that this was the twenty-first century, and he had already made a safe den for his Omega so he could take a few minutes to look after himself.

Safe den, Erik thought, rolling his eyes at himself as he showered quickly. He needed to get over this and get back to work. Part of him was genuinely worried he wouldn’t be able to keep his mind off Charles when he needed to be focused on a million other things, important things involving a lot of money and other people and safety. Especially now that Erik was solely responsible for the teen.

But, Charles was supposed to be an adult now, and ought to be responsible for _himself_. Erik certainly didn’t require the Omegas who worked for him to bring a note from their Alphas or anything like that—the idea was ridiculous and insulting. But somehow with Charles his attitude was different.

Erik finished his shower and checked on Charles, making sure he hadn’t smothered himself or overheated. He seemed alright, just peacefully asleep—still breathing, Erik checked—so he got dressed and began changing the sheets again. Erik rather liked the current smell but understood how Charles’s lizard brain might be turned off by it now, since his body thought heat had served its purpose.

Erik noted that he needed to stock the place with more sheets and blankets in general, and perhaps some clothes, because they certainly weren’t going to stop and do laundry, except for recreational purposes. Then he cleaned up _more_ clothes from the floor, and the _shoes_ again, honestly, were they moving on their own?

When he paused for a moment he remembered he wasn’t feeling so great either, and swallowed a couple of Tylenol and water from the bathroom sink. He could definitely use something more substantial, and if Charles was willing to eat, Erik could hardly resist taking advantage of that.

“Charles.” Erik gave him a little shake. “Wake up, Schatzi.”

Charles whimpered in complaint and tried to turn away, but Erik wouldn’t let him alone. “What?” Charles finally asked in irritation. “I don’t want to have sex!”

“I don’t want to have sex, either,” Erik assured him with a smirk, starting to unwrap the Omega. The blankets smelled like contented apple strudel, if such a thing was possible. Although Charles was _not_ very content as he whined and squealed and struggled to keep the covers.

“Stop taking my blankets!” he demanded. “I’m cold!”

“I’m not taking all of them,” Erik pointed out. “But you need to walk down the stairs, so I can feed you.” He’d thought briefly of leaving Charles alone upstairs to prepare food, but swiftly rejected the idea.

“Food?” Charles repeated, with more interest than he’d shown all week. “Well, maybe if you fix it for me…”

“Who else would?” Erik asked dryly. On his own Charles would probably be reduced to eating bread and fruit—Erik was _almost_ certain he knew how to peel a banana.

“Okay,” Charles sighed, as if this was a major imposition, and he sat up with Erik’s help. “I’ll just go to the bathroom first,” he decided, and shuffled off, dropping blankets in his wake. Erik picked them up and refolded them.

After a few moments Charles returned, sleepily uncoordinated, and Erik frowned. “Maybe I should carry you down the stairs,” he suggested.

“Yes, just throw me over your shoulder and drag me off to your cave!” Charles shot back rudely.

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed the teen’s shoulder to keep him from bouncing off the doorway. Charles allowed this, perhaps because he really _wasn’t_ feeling well, and Erik followed him down the steps with one hand on Charles and the other arm full of blankets.

“Can I lie back down?” Charles asked, eyeing the living room couch longingly.

“Yes. Here’s some blankets—“

“Can you wrap me up like you did before?” Charles requested, sounding somewhat more conciliatory. “It was nice and warm. Only this time when you do it,” he added, before Erik could accuse him of being sweet, “could you _not_ look at me like a spider, wrapping up a fly for dinner later?”

Erik tried not to smirk too smugly. “Okay.” He rolled Charles up again and parked him on the couch. “How’s that? Good? Good. I’m going to go into the kitchen and make you something to eat.”

No sooner was he out of sight than he heard Charles’s plaintive voice. “Erik? Erik!” The Alpha stuck his head back out questioningly. “Can I come into the kitchen with you?”

Erik did not see this ending well. “Stay out here and sleep,” he advised. “I’ll wake you up.” He started to leave again.

“Erik!” Erik sighed and leaned in the doorway. “You’re abandoning me!” Charles warned.

“I’m not—I’m fixing you food!” Erik countered, with some frustration. “How many Alphas are going to do that?” He had no idea, but Charles didn’t either.

“I expect it’s very easy to kill a squirrel and bring it home in your teeth!” Charles snapped, which was completely nonsensical, and not very stinging coming from a talking eggroll. Erik tried not to laugh again.

“Okay, okay,” he placated when Charles started to squirm indignantly. “We’ll figure it out. Can you—“ He tried to turn Charles to a sitting position.

“I can’t do _anything_ , Erik,” Charles pointed out. “You’ve wrapped me up _rather_ tightly.”

“Right. Okay.” Erik started to scoop Charles up but was stopped by his shriek. “What?!”

“You can’t pick me up, Erik!” Charles insisted. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Erik huffed and did it anyway. “What is the point of all that working out,” he grumbled rhetorically, “if I can’t move you around where I want you?”

“It makes you look rather good,” Charles offered thoughtfully.

“Yes, well.” Erik dragged one of the kitchen stools out with his foot and propped Charles’s cocoon up on it, then wedged him back against the counter. “There, are you okay?”

“No, because I’m still hungry, Erik!” Charles asserted.

Erik drew a long breath and walked around to the other side of the counter. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he told Charles.

“Yes, I’ve always thought so,” Charles agreed sagely, and Erik barked out a laugh. Some people could not get away with behavior like that, not without becoming off-puttingly obnoxious; Charles had the charm to pull it off, however. Along with those red lips, cinnamon freckles, eyes that made you want to find a more poetic word for blue… “Erik? Are you going to bring me some food, or just stand there staring at me?” Charles prompted, and Erik snapped out of his haze.

“Right, sorry,” he agreed, turning to the fridge.

“I like you staring at me,” Charles assured him. “Only not when I’m hungry!”

Digging through the fridge, Erik found a package of hamburger meat, and fired up the skillet. Then he opened a new bottle of Gatorade and put a straw in it, and set that in front of Charles along with a bowl of trail mix, to keep him occupied while the meat cooked. “Can you get your arms out?” Erik asked. Since Charles was so insistent that he could feed himself.

Charles wriggled around and managed to grab the bowl and spoon and bring them back into his nest. Erik vaguely remembered that he’d seen sleeping bag-like nests for sale, with sleeves—that might be worth looking into.

“What are you making for me, Erik?” Charles asked, through a mouthful of trail mix. “Does this have chocolate in it? I love chocolate!”

“Hamburgers,” Erik informed him, shaping the patties. “You still want one?”

“At least one,” Charles agreed enthusiastically. “Maybe several!”

Erik nudged the patties into the pan and washed his hands, then leaned on the counter across from Charles. “Can I have some?” he asked, indicating the trail mix.

Charles’s eyes widened and Erik expected him to launch into a (sort of) mock protest. Instead Charles said with horror, “You haven’t eaten yet?!” and hurriedly uncovered the bowl, even though it let drafts into his cocoon. “You ought to eat something, Erik!” He held a spoonful of trail mix up insistently until Erik, bemused, opened his mouth and allowed Charles to feed him.

“I’m not taking good care of you, Erik,” Charles fretted, trying to poke another spoonful in before Erik was done chewing the first one. “Are you cold? Drink something! Did you brush your teeth?”

Erik opened another Gatorade for himself and then bundled Charles back up. “I’m fine,” he assured the Omega. “You cooked for me before, remember? Eggs, and soup. With meat in it.”

“And toast,” Charles reminded him. “I ought to nurture you more, Erik.” He sounded rather determined as he said this, and Erik shuddered slightly.

“I don’t even know what that would entail,” Erik admitted, flipping the hamburgers.

“I don’t know, either,” Charles agreed, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. “Maybe I can pick out all your clothes for you!” he suggested brightly.

“No,” Erik declined, as if he was saving Charles some trouble. “Maybe you could pick up after _yourself_ more,” he countered. “That would really nurture me, to not be tripping over your c—p all the time.”

“Let’s not get carried away, Erik,” Charles reversed. “You’re not a _child_ , after all.”

Erik chuckled and began to set the buns and condiments out on the counter. “Definitely not a child,” he agreed.

“That smells so good, Erik!” Charles prompted after a moment, as if he thought this might make the food cook faster. “I can’t believe you just _made_ hamburgers, that’s so amazing!”

“’Amazing’ is a little strong,” Erik corrected. “It’s quite easy. But it does involve touching raw meat.”

Charles wrinkled his nose on cue. “That seems a bit much,” he judged.

“What’s amazing,” Erik decided, leaning on the counter, “is how fast your face has healed.” This was completely not an excuse to stare at Charles’s face. “The bruises are only a bit yellowish now, you’d have to get really close to see them.”

“As close as you are now, Erik?” Charles teased. Then he leaned across the counter and brushed his lips across Erik’s before the other man had a chance to react.

Which was nice until this movement dislodged the Charles-bundle from his perch, and Erik had to grab him and race around the counter to set him right again. “You’re being too active,” Erik assessed, trying to sound severe. His attempt to hug Charles while he straightened him probably went unnoticed, due to all the layers involved. “You’re supposed to be resting.” He hurried back to the stove to retrieve the burgers.

“I can’t rest right now, I’m too hungry!” Charles reminded him, in case there was the slightest chance Erik had forgotten why he was doing all this.

“Alright, here you go.” Erik set the burgers and a fresh plate in front of Charles. The Omega’s eyes pinged from the burgers, to the condiments and buns, then back to Erik. Erik got the point and began to prepare one, putting mustard and relish on the bottom bun, then the meat, then the ketchup and top bun. That was how Charles liked it, and the teen wriggled in pleasure at the attention, which made it worthwhile to Erik.

Alphas were not known for being nurturing, though all stereotypes had their exceptions; but they _did_ like taking care of things, which was somehow different. Figuring out how to best take care of Charles was a challenge, but a satisfying one, like solving a knotty engineering problem so a building could be constructed as planned. Only sometimes with Charles it was like the building was fighting back.

Erik cut Charles’s hamburger in half and moved on to his own. With some ingenuity, and the application of a dishcloth tucked under his chin, Charles managed to eat without getting too cold _or_ making a huge mess. Which he didn’t always manage even _without_ all the blankets in the way.

“This is the best hamburger _ever_ , Erik!” Charles declared happily.

“It’s practically the only solid food you’ve eaten all week,” Erik couldn’t help but point out.

Charles rolled his eyes. “All those times I said I felt ill at the thought of food counted for nothing, I see!”

“Well, I’ve heard you say that before,” Erik noted. Delicacy was not his forte, but some things needed to be mentioned. “Now that we’re married, I expect you to talk to me if you’re upset, and not just stop eating and hide in your room.” He held Charles’s gaze until the teen looked away, a slightly trapped expression on his face. He probably hadn’t thought anyone else had noticed this pattern.

“Um, well, as we established,” Charles finally replied, quickly bouncing back to an archly humorous tone, “my room at your apartment is _much_ too small for effective hiding!”

“Our apartment,” Erik corrected, trusting Charles had gotten his point.

This brightened the teen up sincerely. “Yes, it _is_ ours, isn’t it?” he agreed. “Can I redecorate?”

Erik grimaced as he ate. “Maybe. We can talk about some ideas,” he hedged. “I don’t want to live in a carnival funhouse.”

Charles did not see anything wrong with that. “But Erik, the apartment is so _dull_ ,” he complained, not for the first time. “All that white and grey and beige… It’s like living in a spaceship designed by _really_ boring aliens.”

“It came that way,” Erik shrugged. And he had never cared enough to change it. “Just—consult a professional, alright? Why don’t you hire Emma to do something to it?”

Charles scoffed. “Yes, Emma would say, there’s too much color, let’s take out the beige.”

Erik could not argue with that. “Well, pick someone else, then.” He just wanted Charles to have some supervision before he started painting polka dots on the walls.

“Shall we have a party when we get home, Erik?” Charles asked, which might or might not have been related to the redecorating comment. Erik gave him a ‘why the h—l’ frown. “To celebrate our _marriage_ , Erik,” Charles reminded him. “Could I have another hamburger, please? And perhaps some chocolate milk.”

Erik complied with the food request, but could not get behind the party idea. “I don’t like parties,” he told Charles. Charles was not unaware of this, of course; Erik was rather famous for not liking parties, whereas Charles was just the opposite. “Why would I want to celebrate something I like, by doing something I _don’t_ like?”

“I could take care of all the planning,” Charles offered, if this would help. Charles had planned and hosted any number of very large parties at his family home, in his mother’s (physical or mental) absence. But that wasn’t Erik’s main objection.

“I don’t…” Erik stirred the chocolate syrup into the milk with great care. “It’s private,” he finally said frankly, meeting Charles’s eye.

The Omega was still confused. “Your reason is private?” he translated. “Well, alright, I was just hoping to get some presents out of a party, but you give better ones anyway.”

Erik smiled slowly and handed over the milk, appreciating that Charles was willing to give up on the idea just because Erik had a serious, if unspoken, objection. It made him want to clarify, so Charles would understand, even though Erik could change the subject right now, having won.

“No, I meant our _marriage_ is private,” he explained, fixing a second hamburger for himself as well. “I don’t feel comfortable with other people celebrating it, because it’s not _for_ them. It’s just for _us_.” He didn’t know if Charles would really comprehend this; the teen lived a rather open, extroverted life, where everything was celebrated by everyone, whether for social climbing purposes or just because they wanted to share with other people. “I don’t like to share,” Erik concluded, as he thought this through. “Especially not you.”

This, he thought, might appeal to the Omega, and Charles smiled as the idea sunk in. “Yes, you’re very bad at sharing, aren’t you, Erik?” he teased, reaching for the remaining half of Erik’s burger.

Erik moved the plate out of Charles’s grasp, in illustration of his point but also because he wanted the rest for himself. “Are you still hungry? I’ll make you something else,” he offered, removing the plate completely when Charles kept stretching across the counter for it. “There’s soup, pasta. There’s some fruits and vegetables, you could probably use those.”

“No, I think I’m done eating for right now,” Charles decided, in a curiously flat tone. He stayed bent awkwardly over the counter.

“Are you feeling sick?” Erik checked. “Or are you just stuck?”

“Erik!” Charles went from zero to whine in just a few seconds, and Erik quickly swallowed his last bite and wiped off his hands to deal with it, feeling like an athlete readying himself for the next play. “I’m tired!” Charles fussed. “I’m so tired, and you’re just making fun of me again! I’m cold, and _you_ wrapped me up this way—“

“Hush, I’m not making fun of you,” Erik assured Charles, helping him sit back up. “Come on, you can lie down and take a nap.”

Charles made unhappy noises as Erik carried him back to the living room, but Erik didn’t think there was anything to be done about them, except let Charles fall asleep. He put Charles in his cocoon down on the floor, between the couch and the fireplace, so Erik wouldn’t worry about him rolling off the couch like Humpty Dumpty. Obviously snickering at that imagery would be fatal right now, so Erik covered it with a cough.

“There, are you comfortable?” he asked Charles, tucking his blankets back in. “Do you want a pillow?” He turned the fireplace on. “You let me know if you get too warm—Charles?” He seemed to be out already. Erik wished it was that easy to get him to sleep normally.

With his Omega snoozing soundly, Erik was able to get some things done around the house, such as laundry, cleaning, packing—all with a very Alpha mindset, he felt, of bringing order to chaos and being responsible and prepared. Of course some Alphas didn’t see things that way, and felt such tasks were beneath them—or just weren’t very good at them. Maybe a parent or spouse had always done the laundry for them.

Erik had been raised to be self-sufficient; or rather, from a young age he’d been told Charles would complete him, but he’d better learn how to cook and do laundry anyway, because you never knew how your Omega would turn out, and anyway what about when they were sick or just had a baby? Erik wasn’t going to be one of those bumbling sitcom Alphas who didn’t know how to turn on the stove or diaper a baby, who panicked when their Omega was out sick and fed the kids dog food.

Turned out to be a good idea—Charles was the one more likely to eat dog food on accident, or possibly on a dare from Raven. Erik was fairly certain that had actually happened.

But right now Charles looked so peaceful—still breathing, good color, not sweating—in his nest, recovering from the exertions of heat. Erik found himself lingering longer and longer each time he stopped to check on him, and finally he decided to just give in and lie down on the couch above for a quick nap. A delicious, soothing scent seemed to waft off Charles, making Erik feel safe and contented, and in just a few minutes he was asleep as well.

**

When Erik woke up, the first thing he realized, before his eyes were even open, was that his Omega was gone.

He jerked to a sitting position on the couch, instantly alert, his senses collecting information for his brain to process too quickly for his conscious mind to articulate. The blankets, discarded on the floor like the shattered remains of a cocoon; Omega scent fading, dispersed by air currents throughout the house; a sock on the stairs, one that Erik had put on Charles that morning; the second at the top of the stairs, and Charles’s sweatshirt on the bedroom floor, like he was shedding outdated skin. Erik heard the water running in the bathroom and burst in, yanking the shower door open on the figure inside.

Charles was startled by his sudden appearance, but quickly divined Erik’s mindset, and gave the other man a very unimpressed look that made Erik realize how incredibly foolish he was being. “Sorry,” Erik sighed, starting to back away.

“I don’t mind you watching me shower, Erik,” Charles told him teasingly. “Only could you watch from _inside_ the stall? You’re letting in a draft.” He went back to rinsing his hair, water and suds sluicing down his pale skin—which was marred by a few too many bruises and scratches for Erik’s taste.

“Could I—“ he began. He knew Charles was going to mock him for this. Well, better to own it, then. “I’d like to look you over and check for injuries,” he stated, trying to be straightforward.

Charles turned to him, brushing water from his eyes. “I _said_ —“ Unexpectedly he reached out and grabbed Erik, yanking him into the stall under the spray. “—come inside, you’re making a draft!” Erik yelped in surprise, rather like a drenched cat he feared, and swiftly found himself pushed up against the wall, Charles half-climbing on him to reach his lips.

This, Erik had no fundamental objection to, and flipped them so he could lift Charles to the correct height, braced against the wall. They tasted each other slowly, without the frenzied escalation that tended to lurk on the edges of every heat encounter—but also without the frustration, the constant vigilance, that had marked their pre-heat explorations. Now, they knew they could go as far as they wanted—or stop, if they preferred.

Erik pulled back to let Charles breathe, watching his swollen red lips curve into a smile. “I could get used to that,” he decided.

Charles toyed with his damp hair, mussing it. “Erik, you’re wearing clothing in the shower,” he pointed out. “That’s a bit silly.”

“You’re right,” Erik admitted, letting his hands wander in a delicate examination. “Should I take them off? Or get out of the shower?”

Charles gave this considerable thought, which required an additional application of Erik’s tongue to complete. “Well, you’d have to take them off anyway,” he reasoned. “You can’t walk around the house in wet clothes, Erik, it’s winter.”

“You know, I think you’re really an adult now,” Erik claimed, “because you’re so sensible.”

Charles let out a little cackle and went to kiss Erik again, attempting to help him remove his now-sodden clothes. Erik just tried to make sure they didn’t end up blocking the drain. “I should just let you do it,” Erik told him, “as you’re an expert at flinging clothes around.” Charles honestly had no idea what he meant. “I followed your trail up here,” Erik explained. “Socks on the stairs.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Erik, perhaps you haven’t noticed, due to your advanced age, I suppose”—Erik laughed against him—“but we are currently in a compromising position. Do you want to talk about my socks, or would you rather _compromise_ me?”

Erik laughed again, which Charles was not expecting. “I’m still wearing my socks,” he pointed out. “I don’t think I could get them off without moving you.”

Charles leaned over to look, and laughed himself. “Well, I don’t want you to move me very far,” he agreed, “so you’ll just have to have wet socks.”

“I was going to do more laundry anyway,” Erik claimed with a wicked grin, and he leaned in to kiss Charles’s moan.

**

The bags were in the trunk, the trash was in the bins, the major messes had been cleaned up, and Erik had texted the estate manager to let him know he could close the house down for a while. He would have it professionally cleaned, the perishables removed, the nonperishables restocked—all the usual services. Hopefully it wouldn’t be six months before they got back here; maybe they could come up for a few weekends, if Erik could make himself not-busy enough. Just him and Charles, he decided as he made one last sweep of the interior. No one else.

Erik’s phone rang, ‘SLS’ displayed on the screen. “Yes?”

“ _I’m getting carbon monoxide poisoning, Erik!_ ” Charles asserted. Erik had placed him in the car with a sandwich so he couldn’t mess up the house further.

“No, you’re not,” Erik assured him, heading towards the stairs. “That’s why I left the garage door open.”

“ _Then I’m getting cold!_ ” Charles complained.

“That’s why I left the car on.” Charles made a frustrated squawk and hung up before Erik could add that he was almost there.

Just as Erik reached the door to the garage it was yanked open and Charles stomped back in. “I’m going to the bathroom!” he announced, and headed for the powder room.

“Okay, good idea,” Erik responded, wishing not for the first time that seatbelts really _locked_ into place. He knew better than to express any impatience, however; he’d long ago been subjected to graphic diagrams detailing how an Omega’s bladder was smaller than an Alpha’s, due to their internal reproductive parts, so making any comments about frequent bathroom trips was sexist and oppressive.

Instead Erik simply swept through the first floor again, just in case he’d missed anything, and met Charles back by the door. Should he go to the powder room himself, in case Charles had managed to splatter water over every surface again? (“Just be glad I wash my hands, Erik!”) No, that would merely leave Charles unsupervised for longer. Time to cut his losses.

“After you,” he told Charles, who went back to the car while Erik locked up. Then Erik got into the driver’s seat and promptly decided to take off his leather jacket, the car being rather toasty in deference to his Omega’s lingering chill. Charles helped with the coat at least, which gave Erik the opportunity to notice all the bread crumbs he’d scattered everywhere. Oh well, he was going to have the car cleaned anyway.

They got out of the garage, down the driveway, and onto the road. Naturally Charles’s first heat would coincide with a massive late-winter snowfall, though in fairness the snow was a couple days old and somewhat tamed by the time they had to travel—Erik would’ve just kept them in his apartment if the roads had been bad. Now it looked like things had warmed up slightly over the last week and turned everything to a nasty grey slush.

“When we get back to the city we have to swing by Azazel’s office,” Erik warned. “There’s some things we have to sign.” Marriage involved a lot of paperwork.

Charles sighed, feeling that end-of-vacation letdown. “Are you going back to work tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Erik replied with finality. He was the sort who was _eager_ to get back to work—Charles supposed that was good, it meant he enjoyed it. “When do you want to start at school?” he asked Charles. “You want to wait until Monday?”

Charles stared at the passing scenery. “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied, with a vagueness he knew Erik found maddening. Engineers were always so precise.

“Are you nervous?” Erik checked. Charles made a little noise that could go either way. “You will be king of that school within a week,” he predicted, not even trying to be nice. “You’ll come home the first day with five new best friends.”

“I miss my _old_ friends, though,” Charles pointed out. “And—all Omegas,” he added of the new school with some distaste. “Omegas can be kind of—dull, don’t you think? I liked having Betas and Alphas as friends, too.” He knew Erik would not agree.

“The Beta girls were okay,” Erik allowed, unsurprisingly. _Was_ he traditional? He’d been thinking about that way too much since not-Charles accused him of it. He didn’t care who the people in his company socialized with. Just Charles.

“These Omegas will be different,” Erik suggested, trying to be upbeat. “They’re bonded young, but their Alphas want them to finish school—that’s interesting right there.” Charles felt that was pushing it a bit. “And, they won’t all be snotty rich kids,” he added cheekily. It was a private school, yes, but about half the students were on scholarships.

“Yes, I suppose that will be different,” Charles agreed, with cautious optimism. He liked meeting new people, new _types_ of people.

“You will dazzle them, Schatzi,” Erik promised, smiling already as he pictured it. Everyone loved Charles right away, it was like some kind of superpower. “And if it doesn’t work out,” he added lightly, “you can always come work for me. I could use an intern to make me coffee, deliver the mail…”

This made Charles roll his eyes. “Please. I’d be on the Board within a month,” he claimed disdainfully.

Erik laughed. “Yes, you would!” He could think of a few people he’d be happy for Charles to replace.

Charles yawned suddenly and scootched down in his seat. “I think I’ll take a nap,” he decided. Then he forced his eyes back open and sat up. “Is that okay?”

Erik did a double-take. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Charles couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow been remiss in caring for Erik this last week. “Will you get bored with no one to talk to?” Charles wondered. _He_ got bored with no one to talk to. “I need to nurture you somehow, Erik! Do you want a massage?” It was his duty now to try and understand this ‘nurturing’ business, he felt—perhaps the Internet would have some ideas.

“Not while I’m driving,” Erik declined. Charles had a sweet nature and periodically seemed to feel guilty for random things Erik was shocked to learn he even thought about. “Do you want to do something nice for me?” he ventured.

“Yes, Erik!”

“Let’s listen to my radio station for a while, then.” Erik liked classical music—the way the melodies intertwined in complex yet beautiful ways, like an elegant building with a sound underpinning. Charles claimed it put him to sleep, but if he was going to sleep anyway, that was a low-cost way for him to make Erik happy.

“Okay,” Charles agreed. He got comfortable in his seat again. “Erik, I think you’re the best Alpha ever,” he said suddenly, with sincerity.

Erik chuckled, not quite believing the compliment but pleased to hear it anyway. “Go to sleep, Schatzi,” he advised, turning on the radio.

**Author's Note:**

> When I post this story, it will be number 500 that I have posted on AO3. As of right now (before posting), I have posted 2.6 million words, and I have accumulated 160,000 total hits, 6000 kudos, and almost 400 comment threads.
> 
> I wanted to take the occasion of my 500th story to thank everyone who has read my stories here, especially those who have given kudos and left comments. I’ll be honest, I would be writing my stories anyway, even if there wasn’t a place to post them or an audience to read them; I write them for my own enjoyment. But it makes me all the happier, then, that I can take something I was going to do anyway, and very easily share it with others, hopefully giving them some enjoyable entertainment for a little while. I like to think that I am putting something good into the world, to help counteract all the bad we seem to have these days.
> 
> So thank you, everyone, and let’s start counting out 500 more! I think I have it in me. :)


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